Certain Laws and Rules of Engagement
by dreamingfate
Summary: Whole thing now available here. The relationship between the cook and the first mate develops slowly as they try to figure out where they stand with one another.. follows from Shifting Ties. Explicit. Zoro/Sanji, Sanji/Zoro.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Zoro is Loud.

It was a beautiful evening. The full moon hung like a saucer on the cloudless night sky, reflected as a silvered, bobbing orb on the gently rippling sea. It was warm, but the air was laced with a cooling breeze that brought back memories of perfect childhood summers spent in pursuit of nothing more than fun.

Zoro watched the moon through the porthole in the galley as it sailed past with unhurried, delicate grace. He noticed Sanji look at him and moved to meet his gaze but it had already swept away, so Zoro looked back to the moon. He had finished his meal, cleaning his plate as always. He wiped at a stray streak of sauce with the pad of his forefinger then slipped it between his lips and sucked on it, reliving the delicious flavour. This time, Sanji didn't look away fast enough and their eyes met across the dinner table. He noticed the cook's eyes flick down to his lips as he slowly but discretely withdrew his finger. To the casual observer Sanji gave nothing away, but Zoro noticed the bob in his throat as he swallowed.

Zoro scratched absently at the back of his head and leant his chin on the palm of one hand. The moon was half-way across the porthole now.

Luffy tried in vain to steal the last morsel of meat from Usopp's plate, becoming enraged when the sharpshooter swiftly shoved it into his own mouth so their captain couldn't have it. Living with Luffy had made them all wiser when it came to dinner. There was no food left on the table. Every plate had been picked clean. Luffy turned to Sanji with sad eyes, but was given a resolute, unwavering 'no'. Beside Zoro on the bench, Chopper was happily finishing a corn-on-the-cob out of sight of their resident glutton. Kernels were stuck in his fur and his nose was all buttery, but he smiled up at Zoro like a kid with a lollypop. He couldn't help himself but smile back.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zoro watched Sanji relax his black tie and undo his top shirt buttons, slipping a hand underneath to massage at tired muscles in his neck and shoulders. When everyone had finally finished eating, he lit a cigarette.

"Where are you looking so intently?" Nami asked. Zoro only half-registered what she'd said until he realised it had been directed at him.

"Hm?" He offered, giving her a puzzled look. Robin was sitting beside her, engrossed in an ancient history tome.

She turned to look over her shoulder again. "You were looking over there like something had offended you." She said, motioning with her thumb.

He shrugged at her and folded his arms. She sighed back at him and turned to thank Sanji for the delicious food, thanks he accepted like a love-struck dimwit, and went to turn in for the night. Luffy, Usopp and Chopper followed not long after, spouting something about Midsummer Pixies and making each other increasingly overexcited that they might find some in the tangerine grove. Sanji rubbed a thumb along his jaw and then pushed fingers up into his hair. He caught Zoro looking.

Robin was still sucked into her book.

"Good book?" Zoro asked her. No response. "I hear someone dies in the end."

"This is a history book. Everyone dies in the end." She got up, folding the ancient, black-backed book and went to find somewhere there would be fewer interruptions.

The door swung shut with a light thud, and a stillness descended upon the galley. Sanji coughed awkwardly and stood, swinging his long legs out from under the bench. He grabbed up some plates and took them to the counter beside the sink. The thump-thumping above their heads meant that the pixie-hunt was still ongoing.

Zoro stood, saying nothing, and helped with the plates. One-by-one, so it took a little longer. Leftover bones were scraped carefully into the bin as Sanji filled the basin with steaming water. Eventually there was a faint 'click' outside as the door to the living quarters closed: a fair indication that the elephants upstairs had retreated to bed.

When Zoro looked up from the last stacked plate, Sanji was already gazing at him.

"Zoro-" But Zoro's lips cut him off, soft but firm against his own. Then firm and needy, breathless as he pressed Sanji back into the counter. Zoro broke from the kiss and turned his attention to Sanji's neck, holding him firmly and dragging the flat of his tongue from the nape up to the cook's ear. Sanji had been hard for Zoro since about halfway through the dinner, not that he'd ever let on. The sly glances that never quite connected, the finger-sucking, the way the light played over Zoro's jaw and cheekbones when he tilted his head just so…it made Sanji weak, and he knew it. Self control was the last thing on his mind as Zoro kissed his neck and bit his earlobe, tugged his shirt free from his trousers and ground hard into him.

He tightened his fingers in the swordsman's hair, pulling his head back with a fierce grip. Zoro gasped, lips parted and eyes shut. Sanji's erection was throbbing with need. His other hand travelled down to Zoro's ass, holding him still as he thrust his hips forward. A grin spread across the other man's lips.

Zoro hoisted him up with little protest and spread him on the galley table.

"Oi bastard, not here!"

"Why the hell not?"

"This is where everyone eats, we can't do it here."

"The way I see it, I'm still owed dessert."

Zoro was hurriedly unzipping Sanji's trousers, ignoring the man's objections.

"Stop, damn asshole!" Sanji growled, pushing away at Zoro's face and shoulders. The swordsman grabbed his hands and pulled them out of the way, then bent over and mouthed Sanji's boxer-restrained erection. His protests stifled immediately, much to Zoro's amusement.

"Stop, or don't stop? Which is it?"

Sanji lay his head back against the table, breathing hard, saying nothing. Zoro licked slowly over the fabric, feeling the taut, flexing erection beneath. He pressed his teeth gently to the head of Sanji's cock, where a wet patch was starting to appear on his boxers. Zoro sucked hard on him through them, and Sanji let out a ragged, guttural gasp. The tension in his wrists dissipated and Zoro let them free, feeling Sanji's fingers curl gently into his hair. The thighs around him spread encouragingly, and Zoro knew that victory was his.

_It's not right, it's not right to do it here_

He felt Zoro gently pull back his boxers, resting the waistband over the base of his erection and his balls.

_We shouldn't_

He waited for the connection of lips and tongue, but felt nothing. His toes curled in his shoes from the tension.

_We should stop, this shouldn't go any further_

Zoro blew over his head, and he could feel how wet he was from the sudden, dripping chill. He put a hand over his mouth, unsure whether it was to stop sounds of pleasure or the protestations in his mind from escaping through his lips. He felt his own legs spread wider around Zoro, his feet raising on tip-toes.

_Don't_

He tilted his hips, presenting the tip of his cock to Zoro's lips.

_Please don't_

He pushed Zoro's head down, curling the fingers he held in his hair.

_Don't fuck me here_

Zoro's lips parted around him, agonisingly slowly.

_But holy-fucking-god I want it_

He arched his back, almost involuntarily, trying to stop himself from thrusting into Zoro's mouth, into the soft, wet, warm space that was surrounding him, teasing him cruelly. He was so hard and wet already from knowing how good it would be, knowing from experience that Zoro would touch him in all the right places, and he was impatient for it. He didn't care if Zoro knew.

The swordsman was taking him slowly, allowing him to feel every caress of his tongue, every ridge on the roof of his mouth, every pass of his lips from base to head. Sanji wanted to yell out with frustration, and bit down on the back of his hand as Zoro sucked him tightly. He felt what he was waiting for – his trousers and boxers pulled down together and left to dangle off the foot of one leg. Zoro repositioned himself so that he was effectively sitting at the table, and traced a hand up the cook's thigh.

"You're fast tonight." He said, almost in a whisper. His tone was rich, nowhere near the usual mockery. Sanji propped himself up on his elbows, ready to retort, but nothing would come. Then he noticed Zoro had something in his hands.

"What's that?" He asked.

"Nothing to worry about." Zoro said, squirting some of the viscous liquid into his palm and slipping the bottle back in his pocket. "Lie back."

"Tell me."

"I'll show you." He said, meeting Sanji's eye with that seductive determination he had, wetting the fingers of his other hand.

If he hadn't been so addled, Sanji would have responded with a swift, violent rebuttal, but if he was honest he was intrigued. And he wanted Zoro to fuck him, so co-operation was key. He lay his head back against the table and waited.

He jerked as Zoro's fingers connected, trying to stop trembling from sensitivity. His touch was firm, leisurely, stroking slowly back and forth as he worked with his mouth. The sensation of those fingers was fantastic; he'd expected cold but the fluid had already warmed from Zoro's hands, and he could feel it slick and smooth over his ass. He wanted Zoro's fingers inside him, wanted Zoro's cock inside him, but wasn't about to say so explicitly. The way his body was responding, he was fairly sure he didn't have to.

Having Sanji spread on the galley table, hearing him pant and feeling him respond almost desperately to every touch, using every last ounce of restraint not to beg for what he wanted; these were the reasons to take it slow. Sometimes the situation demanded swiftness so they wouldn't be caught pants-around-ankles, but today had provided circumstances that meant Zoro could take his time, do it how he wanted. And today, he wanted to tease.

Sanji's body had already been hot and tense when he'd started, so he was sure it was unbearable now. Every time his fingertips passed over the cook's opening he felt the other's hips tilt, trying to encourage him to enter. He slowed his fingers, resting a fingertip just at the entrance, then stopped. Sanji tensed around him from frustration, powerful legs shuddering. For a moment he wondered whether a kick might be coming in his direction, but right now that was probably the furthest thing from Sanji's mind. The fingers in his hair clenched tight and the taste in his mouth changed as Sanji leaked pre-come. Breath was rushing sharply in and out through his nostrils, his mouth still guarded by his hand.

Zoro slipped a finger in, just one, and that was nearly enough for him to lose it. His only thoughts were of Zoro's lips, his hot, wet mouth and those fingers that moved over him like they were made of silk. Two fingers, and it felt even better. He didn't give a fuck how needy he seemed. Shit, he was needy, thinking only of how he wanted to feel good, wanted to come deep in Zoro's mouth, over his face, over his ass, anywhere would do about now.

Inside, Sanji felt incredible. Zoro could feel the tension in him as he shifted between squeezing and relaxing, all soft and hot and inviting. He thought of how it would feel to have his cock in there, sucking Sanji harder and faster as he fantasised about it. His own trousers were uncomfortably tight and restrictive, but he hadn't a free hand to relieve them. That and he was afraid he might come outright if he touched himself at all. He shifted his weight to see if that helped things, but the fabric of his underwear rubbed against his head in a way that was assaultingly pleasurable. He groaned slightly around Sanji's erection from it, making the man gasp. Zoro kept moving his hips, gently enjoying that feeling as he shifted his focus to what his fingers were doing.

Sanji remembered that Zoro had done this once before, experimenting with how to touch him inside. He'd found a spot that had made Sanji go to pieces, made him unable to do much more than moan and cry out. He remembered his annoyance at Zoro's amused face as he made him leak uncontrollably. Zoro had found that place again, and Sanji felt his eyes rolling back into his head. He knew he should be yelling out, shouting Zoro's name in desperate frustration, but no words would come. He couldn't take it any more. He knew it would feel good, but there was only so much pleasure a man could take before it broke him.

_Oh god I want to come…Zoro I want to come…_

Both of his hands went to Zoro's head, one on top of the other, pushing down forcibly. He drove his hips up, feeling Zoro's lips part around him, fingers still working inside his ass.

Zoro had been unprepared for Sanji's reversal from frustrated obedience to frustrated aggression, and it had caught him unawares. Sanji held his head down tight as he thrust up and fucked Zoro's mouth, becoming more and more erratic. Zoro pressed harder inside, hugely satisfied that he'd driven Sanji to such a point that he couldn't take it any more. Then he realised that Sanji's thrusts were pushing him to the same point. It felt too good to stop rocking his hips, gently pushing himself towards the point of orgasm, but still a comfortable distance away. Or at least it had been, until Sanji had started fucking him. He felt it, and stopped moving his hips, but it was too late.

Sanji felt Zoro shudder, his mouth losing tension and his fingers stopping. He almost lost it in irritation, thinking that Zoro was playing him, but then the things that he missed returned with renewed focus. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks and his cock, felt his orgasm building like a blinding light. Zoro pressed hard and sucked him deep, and his body finally relented, leaving him panting, sweating and exhausted.

He leant up on his elbows again and looked at Zoro, trying to force his eyes to focus. Zoro withdrew his fingers and wiped his mouth with the back of his other hand, looking worse for wear himself. His eyes met Sanji's, but he wasn't sure of the expression. He was still holding his legs open, expecting Zoro to climb on top of him. Zoro got up and stepped out from the bench.

"I need a shower." He said, turning towards the door. He seemed oddly embarrassed.

"What the hell! We aren't done yet."

"Yeah, we are. Later." And Zoro was gone, leaving Sanji to scrabble together his clothes from under the table and dress his lower-half before he could follow.

As the hot water from the shower filled the room with vapour, Zoro removed his clothes, sticky underwear and all, looking disappointedly at the mess he'd made in his pants and over his cock. It'd felt good at the time, but the afterglow was short-lived and he didn't want to have to explain to Sanji that he'd come so hard and so easily just from him taking control. He'd never live that down.

He pulled back the curtain and stepped in, feeling his body warm and cool under the heat from the spray. He closed his eyes and pushed his face into it, holding his breath. When he re-opened them, there was a figure standing on the other side of the curtain, silhouetted by the bathroom light, coming closer and holding up a knife-

The shower curtain was ripped back to reveal Sanji, having broken into the bathroom using a slender kitchen knife to unhinge the lock. He looked accusingly down at Zoro's relaxed prick.

"Ok, no-one could jerk off that quickly, not even you, marimo." He said, looking at Zoro accusingly instead. "What was that?"

Zoro pulled the curtain back. "Nothing, shit-cook."

"We've had sex plenty and you've never run away before."

"I didn't run away."

"You left before I even had a chance to get my clothes back on."

"What does it matter anyway?"

"I can't enjoy myself when it's one-sided."

"Look, whatever, I'm just tired or something." No response. "So get out of the bathroom asshole, it's weird." Still nothing. Zoro jerked the curtain open. Sanji was undressing. "What are you doing?"

"I saw your underwear."

Zoro blushed behind the curtain, grinding his teeth in annoyance. "The fuck difference does that make?"

The curtain pulled back, and Sanji stepped in. "You had an unfulfilling experience."

"It wasn't-"

"It doesn't have to end there." The back of Sanji's hand was travelling up his inner thigh, re-awakening his erection. Zoro leant against the wall of the shower, parting his thighs so that Sanji's fingers could reach him. His other hand appeared in front of Zoro's face, brandishing the bottle of lube he'd obviously fished out of Zoro's pocket. He squirted some into his palm as Zoro had done, and placed it on the rim of the bath.

He looked Zoro square in the face, hair beginning to cling to his forehead from the wet of the shower. "I don't like it if you're left unsatisfied."

"Look," Zoro started to protest, but Sanji's hand cupped his balls and his mind went blank.

"I don't want to feel that I'm taking and not giving enough in return. It's not that hard to understand, dumbass." His hand rose up over Zoro's hardening erection, smooth and frictionless as they kissed forcefully. Zoro raised a leg and rested his foot on the rim of the bath, rubbing the head of his cock against Sanji's. Sanji's fingers dove into him, with none of the restraint Zoro had shown him earlier. He was about to bite his lip when Sanji bit it for him, kissing up to behind his ear, pushing his tongue inside it in ways he knew got to Zoro, the actions of the fingers inside him making him rock his hips against Sanji's leg.

Sanji turned him around, pressing him into the tiled shower wall, and fingered him from behind. Zoro felt blood rush to his cheeks and redden his face, making the tiles feel cool against his skin. The cook was working his erection with one hand and fucking him with the other.

The man's double standards were amusing. Having sex where everyone ate was a bad idea, but doing it in a communal bathing area was apparently fine. Zoro looked back at Sanji and any thoughts of teasing evaporated. His expression was one of concentration, serious despite the blush lighting his cheeks, betraying his need to get things right. He noticed that Zoro was watching him, and his expression shifted over into the 'annoyed' spectrum.

Zoro turned to the wall again, placing his forehead against the tiles. "You feel good," He said through a grin, imagining Sanji's face. The fingers pulled out of his ass and were swiftly replaced by Sanji's wide, tight erection. He gasped, his fingernails scraping for purchase on the slippery tiles, digging into the grout between. Water cascaded down his back, turning into wet noise as Sanji thrust into him. The direction of the spray shifted as Sanji turned the shower head towards the wall. Zoro became aware that he was panting and made a conscious effort to slow his breathing, trying to regain control of his body. Sanji's hands were at his hips, gripping him tight, running up his back with gentle pressure and holding his shoulders. He was panting again.

Sanji's fingers slipped between his own, curling around his hand and holding him close. Zoro felt him bite at his neck and shoulders, sending trickling sensitivity down his spine and making him tense and shudder. Sanji's other hand pounded Zoro's erection, driving him towards the edge.

Sanji's talented fingers felt good, but this was ecstasy.

"I'm going to come…"

It came as a sudden surprise to Sanji when Zoro shouted his name, the way he had in the hotel when they'd been alone together, with no restraint whatsoever. He'd managed to cover Zoro's mouth before the whole of the second 'Sanji' came out, the rest following as a muffled stream. Just like back then, hearing Zoro call his name in that tone was endlessly erotic and he came hard for the second time that evening. Zoro's head dropped back against his shoulder, and he kissed his cheek. He looked exhausted.

"You can't be that loud when we're on the ship you moron, people will hear."

"I was loud?" Zoro said, turning his face towards Sanji's neck.

"You don't remember?"

"Not really."

"Maybe I should only fuck you when we're on dry land then."

----------

"Sanji! I heard Zoro calling for you last night."

"It's ok Chopper, I found him."


	2. Chapter 2

**2. ****Rules are made for breaking**

Cooking-wise, morning was Sanji's favourite time of day. The crew hadn't woken up yet so weren't under his feet or winding around his legs impatient for food, and he could give the task his full concentration. Eggs to be whisked, smoked fish to be carefully filleted, pancakes to be mixed and ready to go, coffee to be percolated to perfection. With what he had in mind, it would be a busy morning.

He cracked a couple of marble-white eggs into a bowl single-handedly, and, discarding the shells, set to aggravating them with a fine metal whisk. Footsteps creaked up the stairs to the stern of the Merry and Sanji sighed with irritation. There went his morning. The sun was only just peeking out behind the horizon, lighting the sky with flares of red and turquoise. Whoever was up was about to ruin the view.

Zoro appeared, stretching and yawning. Sanji scowled at him through the galley porthole for being inconsiderate to the beautiful dawn. He walked over to his weights, using his bandana to wipe off dew that had settled on the cool metal overnight then tying it back around his arm. He pulled his shirt off lazily over his head, setting it on the ship's banister then grabbing up some chalk for his hands. He clapped them together, sending up a cloud of fine dust that hung in the air and settled against his working, muscular torso. Zoro turned his strong, broad back to the porthole and stood still for a moment, perhaps deciding his routine. The muscles in his back flexed as he began his warm up.

By this point, the eggs in Sanji's bowl had practically become a meringue. He tutted and frowned down at them as though the blame was somehow theirs, rinsing them away down the sink. He started again. Eggs into the bowl, a plump single- and a double-yolker this time, a sprinkle of sugar for the ladies and set to mixing. His mind and his eyes wandered, back to Zoro.

The swordsman was holding his massive weights out like he would a katana, legs spread apart for stability, his body dispersing the effort between different sinews as he slowly raised and lowered the metal pole. A fine sheen of sweat was beginning to show on him, glistening discretely under the morning sun.

It seemed like Zoro could never be strong enough, that more training was always necessary. Sanji became aware that he wasn't even whisking any more, just standing and staring out of the window at the idiotic meathead. He became furious with himself and vowed not to look again. If he didn't get on with things, his two delightful flowers might have to wait for their breakfast and that certainly wouldn't do.

The eggs were done, and he siphoned some of the mixture off into a jug, added flour, some more sugar and began to add the milk. Whisking again, he looked up without thinking and broke his own vow involuntarily. Shitty bastard swordsman had no business standing in his line of view.

Zoro was stilled, shoulders rising and falling gently as he breathed. Sanji wondered if he was just standing there because he'd forgotten what he was doing, perhaps waking from some I Must Work Out dream-like trance to find himself half-undressed and out on deck. Then Sanji realised he was watching the sunrise.

The pancake mixture was an unsatisfactory sludge, so he added more milk. When he next looked up Zoro was gone. He leaned forward towards the porthole, peering through and nearly uprighting the pancake jug which wobbled uncertainly until he caught it, cursing. Zoro wasn't gone, he had just dropped out of sight doing one-handed press-ups. At least now Sanji didn't have to look at him any more. He didn't want to think about why that made something stir in his gut, perhaps a sort of…longing. He stared down at the half-made pancake batter, which had no helpful suggestions.

Sanji banged the jug down on the counter and grabbed the nearest towel, flinging it over the porthole in irritation. The light in the galley dimmed, and red-and-blue stripes cast over his workspace where the dawn had been.

Stupid, shitty marimo.

Even though he could no longer be seen, he could still be heard. It was like he had it in for Sanji, and didn't want him to have a moment's peace. The noises were like sex; breathless and strained from physical exertion, counting upwards. Sanji couldn't quite make out what the numbers were, but that tone in Zoro's voice was apparently hot-wired to his cock.

Sanji was furious. Zoro had to be doing it on purpose, knowing he was in the kitchen and could be watching him, flexing this way and that, demonstrating his tight, delicious physique and straining his voice in such a way that would make Sanji want him…

He abandoned his breakfast preparations and stormed towards the stern, flinging the galley door open and stamping up the stairs.

"What the hell is your problem?" He said through gritted teeth. Zoro stared at him, bemused.

"Good morning to you too, curly-brow." He stood up from his press-ups, glaring at Sanji like he'd just been interrupted. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"_This_." Sanji told him, waving his arms around emphatically. "You with your hard, naked body, working out and making those _noises_ you do,"

"Wait, what-"

"Right where I can see you when I'm trying to get breakfast made, you inconsiderate fuck."

"Let me get this straight. You were watching me work out,"

"Like I had a fucking choice,"

"Shut up! You were watching me do my morning work-out, you get all aroused and somehow that's _my fault_?"

"I'm not _aroused_,"

"You come stamping up the stairs, interrupting what I'm doing, shout at me for doing what I always do and being half-naked – _half_, I'd like to point out, not 'naked' like you said, it's not my fault if your thinking travels in that direction -"

"What does it matter what I said!"

"Same way I always do it, and you're trying to tell me it's _not_ because you want to fuck?"

Sanji stumbled over his own words, resorting eventually to a sort of unconvincing, curtailed "Pah,"

"Never on the ship during daylight."

"Huh?"

"Never on the ship during daylight. That was one of your rules."

"You say 'your rules' like you had some of your own."

"I do."

"Like what?"

"Never during training."

"So you're saying no?"

"Not at all. I'm just saying that if I get you off right now, we're breaking one of _my_ rules on _your_ account."

"What about _my_ damn rules! _Like never doing it in the galley!_ Besides, it's not like I'll be the only one enjoying it,"

"You're the one who instigated it, so all the responsibility for the breaking of _my_ rule lies with _you_."

"Fuck you, damn bastard." Sanji turned to walk away but Zoro pinned him to the wall, his body rich with the scents of sweat, chalk and musk.

"Don't act like you don't want it any more." Zoro told him, palming his crotch. "I'm not saying I won't, I'm just saying 'you owe me'."

"Like hell I-" The rest was lost to Zoro's lips and tongue. Sometimes, _most _of the time, Zoro could be such a fucking intolerable asshole that Sanji wanted to kick him senseless. The constantly vying, goading, undermining shithead rubbed him like a three-year-old might stroke a cat against the grain – careless and brutish. But the cat and the three-year-old soon learn where they stand with one-another, and he still couldn't figure out where he stood with Zoro.

Along with the teasing and irritation, mixed in with his un-refined manner and lack of taste, Zoro had qualities Sanji couldn't quite place that had him enthralled. The swordsman was both irritating bastard and considerate lover; boorish and gentle, rough and attentive. He was a paradox of things that shouldn't exist together in the same package; an intriguing and erotic puzzle. Even now, after knowingly winding him up, Zoro's touch told him everything was left behind. The sweeping caress of his fingertips up to Sanji's nipples; the delicate kisses gracing his neck; the determined press of his thumbs to Sanji's hips told him everything he needed to hear.

_I want you|You can trust me|I'll take care of everything_

Sanji watched him work, topless and kneeling with his eyes closed, wearing an expression that made it look as though _he_ was the one receiving. Sanji put a hand to his belly, flattening his shirt where Zoro had ridden it up so that he could see better. He wondered whether the swordsman might view giving him head as a training exercise, seeing as how he tended to go deeper on Sanji every time. His eyes widened as his cock almost disappeared fully into Zoro's mouth. Zoro opened his eyes at that precise moment and caught Sanji's expression, proving himself to be the only man alive who could grin, goad and suck dick all at the same time.

Sanji let it go, blushing wildly and thinking already of how to get one back on Zoro. It would have to be some other time, perhaps the next time they were alone together, or the time after that, because here Zoro had the home advantage. He looked like he'd already forgotten about it completely though, losing himself in the concentrated effort of pleasuring Sanji. Sanji had to admit, there were few sights better than watching himself disappear into Zoro in one way or another. In fact, at that moment, he couldn't think of any.

His fingers brushed Zoro's cheek and the swordsman looked up at him again, no teasing or mockery but simply to gauge Sanji's expression, watching him to see what he was feeling. Sanji put his palm to Zoro's cheek, feeling the three earrings slide coolly over his fingers with each movement. Then he realised why Zoro was watching him so intently. From the beginning, Sanji had been pretty stand-offish on the subject of affection, batting Zoro's hands away if they came to unwanted places.

He stroked the swordsman's temple and eyebrow with his thumb. Usually during these sorts of situations Sanji's hands were on Zoro's head, in his hair, pushing him down so he could get what he wanted. But this time he was being affectionate, and it was making Zoro look back at him with uncertainty. That vulnerability was yet another complicated piece of him.

Sanji couldn't understand it, why he felt such a strong draw to Zoro, why he felt compelled to seek him out when he wasn't around, draw him into fights when they were in other people's company, why no matter how mad Zoro made him or how much he pissed Sanji off, he couldn't help wanting to be near him.

Zoro closed his eyes again, and leaned his blushing face only ever-so-slightly into Sanji's palm. Sanji wondered what Zoro would make of the expression he was wearing right now.

"Zoro," He announced. The swordsman picked up the pace, taking him faster and deeper, working with his hands, catching Sanji on a wave of immediate pleasure that made the breath hitch in his throat.

"_Zoro,_" He whispered hoarsely, breathing hard and watching the face of his lover, thinking only of him as he was brought to climax. While he was still caught in a post-coital haze, Zoro slipped him back inside his underwear and zipped him up, standing and turning back to his weights. Sanji was about to protest when Luffy burst through the tangerine grove above.

"Sanji! Breakfast!" He demanded.

Usopp, still half-asleep, appeared on the stairs. "Sanji…"

"Alright already." Sanji said, relenting. He shot a glance in Zoro's direction, but he was already back to training.

-------------------

Zoro had fallen asleep after his work-out, despite feeling hungry. He was surprised the cook hadn't woken him for breakfast. He traipsed into the galley, finding Sanji at the sink as usual. He didn't turn round. Zoro watched him, elbow-deep in the morning's dishes, blond hair haloed by the sun streaming in through the window. Recently, he'd stopped turning round when Zoro came into the galley to raid something from the fridge. That meant Sanji knew his footsteps; knew him well enough to read his intentions from the way he walked.

Zoro tugged the fridge open, its contents clinking together. Inside, there was a plate of salvaged pancakes and a bottle with his name on it. He picked up the bottle and inspected it, suspicious. A careful sniff of the contents revealed a delicious fruity aroma.

"That's an isotonic drink. I hear they're good to have after physical activity. You'd better be grateful, marimo." Sanji muttered into the dishes.

Zoro looked over at him and took a swig. It was good. Refreshing. He walked over to the cook, watching his boots and wondering what they were saying. He stopped close enough that their bodies almost touched, but not quite, and put a hand gently to Sanji's shoulder, rubbing with small, tender circular motions up to his neck. He kissed Sanji just below the line of his hair, catching the fragrant aromas of coffee, shower and cigarettes that defined the cook's scent.

He grabbed the plate of pancakes up and decided to eat them on the stern.


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Revenge is sweet**

_Cinnamon. Needs more cinnamon. The flavours are good in the low and high-range, but something's missing from the mid-range of the palette…nutmeg, try nutmeg. Almost there…_

Watching Sanji develop something new was like watching a chemist at work. He was deep in thought, surrounded by his carefully-arranged reagents and standing before the stove: his Bunsen burner. He kept the mixture in the copper pan moving gently with one hand, his other scanning over his selected ingredients. He licked his thumb and pressed it into a dish full of brown powder, then brought it to his lips and sucked on it thoughtfully. No, obviously not the right one. Another dish was tried, and a pinch of the substance added.

Zoro had been watching him work for perhaps twenty minutes or more, noting the changing, evolving aromas of what he assumed must be a sauce of some kind. A dessert sauce, given its obvious sweetness. Sanji hadn't picked up on his presence yet, even when he'd gone over to fetch a beer, such was his concentration, and Zoro didn't want to disturb him so he was sitting at the galley table waiting patiently for the cook to finish.

Sanji lifted the spoon from the pan and watched the sauce drip off it, gauging its consistency. To Zoro's eye, the sauce flowed like liquid silk.

Sanji straightened suddenly and turned around, staring over at Zoro in surprise. There was the break in focus Zoro had been waiting for.

"How long have you been there?"

"Not long." He lied, getting up from the table and crossing the galley. "What's that?" He said, pointing down at the contents of the saucepan with a face full of mock suspicion.

Sanji flashed him an irritated glare, as Zoro knew he would. "_That_ is what I've been working on all morning, rude bastard," he said as he stirred the sauce proudly. "La sauce au chocolat."

Zoro looked back at him flatly. "A chocolate sauce."

"I wouldn't expect someone like _you_ to appreciate the difference, shitty marimo," Sanji said through gritted teeth.

"It's a chocolate sauce however you want to spin it."

Getting Sanji from calm and collected to flustered and angry had become one of Zoro's practiced specialties. It was surprisingly easy when you knew which buttons to press, and Zoro knew those buttons well. Sanji was about to tip over into the latter category; he just couldn't help himself but rise to Zoro's prodding remarks, same as always. Zoro felt himself grin inwardly. He knew precisely why he liked doing it so much, though he wasn't sure Sanji had figured it out yet – when the cook lost it in irritation he looked surprisingly close to when he lost it through pleasure, his facial contortions almost enough to make Zoro fuck him there and then. Driving Sanji up the wall was the most fun he could have during daylight hours.

Sanji brandished the spoon from the pan, eyes widening as he felt warm chocolate sauce land in splatters over his cheek. He glared at Zoro with a face full of frustrated embarrassment, and wiped his cheek off with the back of one hand.

Zoro grabbed his wrist. As soon as he had, Sanji knew what he had in mind. Their gazes locked as the swordsman drew the back of Sanji's hand to his lips. He licked the sauce away slowly, allowing Sanji time to envisage that sensation elsewhere. The cook watched him, offering no struggle. Zoro pressed his teeth gently against Sanji's skin, just enough to leave an impression, sucking and kissing until he was satisfied that Sanji would be enough of a mess. He desperately wanted to take it further, but now wasn't the time.

He released his grip on Sanji's wrist.

The other man was blushing intensely and breathing hard. "…Asshole,"

Zoro grinned. "Tastes good." He said, pressing his thumb to his lips and backing out of the galley, leaving the cook to his sauce.

--------------

It wasn't too bad a night to be on watch, Zoro supposed. Wisps of cloud passed by overhead, silvered by the moon into delicate filigree, tripping on the breeze to far-away places he might never see. Just like the Merry, carried to distant shores by the endless tides of the ocean.

A door closed somewhere and split his reverie. He looked up at the stars and waited.

"Oi," Sanji called up to him. He peered over the side of the crow's nest.

"What, shit-cook?" He could practically hear Sanji's teeth grinding.

"Get the fuck down from there, damn bastard."

Zoro vaulted the side and jumped down, landing with a heavy 'smack' as his feet slammed into the deck.

"You move with the unearthly grace of a beached whale." Sanji told him.

"What do you want? I'm on watch."

Sanji produced a small jar filled with a deep brown, viscous liquid. "I think this requires some further testing." He said. "And seeing as you're the only one up," He handed the jar to Zoro.

Zoro dipped a thumb into the still-warm sauce and sucked on it thoughtfully. Then he looked at Sanji. "Something tells me it would taste better under different circumstances." He said.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Zoro's thumb smeared across the corner of Sanji's lips. Zoro's hot tongue followed it.

"Yeah, I was right. Maybe here…" Over his bottom lip, pressing gently. Zoro licked at it, sucked and pulled at it with his teeth. Sanji felt as though he was about to ignite.

Zoro dipped two fingers into the sauce and pushed them between Sanji's lips. He felt Sanji's hot, agile tongue flick over and between them, his cheeks concaving as he sucked on them, keeping his gaze all the while.

And there was Sanji's revenge; the expression on Zoro's face that told him he was in trouble now, that there would be no stopping what he'd started.

Zoro kissed him, hard and passionate, pushing him against the ship's main mast, tasting the deliciously delicate sweetness of Sanji's expert concoction. The cook thumped a fist against his shoulder and he stopped. Sanji was looking at his hand, the one which held the sauce he'd worked so hard on.

Zoro scowled at him. As if he'd drop that.

He grabbed Sanji's wrist and led him away, towards the hold. The hold was a favourite place of Zoro's; it was where they'd first had sex, where Sanji had finally relented, even though Zoro hadn't felt able to go all the way that time. He placed the jar carefully on a pallet and turned back to Sanji, finding his lips again.

Sanji's hands were all over him, separating his shirt from his haramaki, raking through his hair, grasping at his ass as his tongue filled Zoro's mouth. Zoro could smell the heat coming off him. He pressed Sanji hard against a stack of large crates, kissing him desperately, fingers fighting to relieve him of his suit jacket as Sanji tugged off his tie. Both of them worked together at the buttons of Sanji's shirt. If it had been down to Zoro he would have just torn the damn thing off.

He broke from the kiss and looked down at Sanji's bare, pale skin, chest rising and falling rapidly. He ran his hands up Sanji's torso from the waist, settling on the smooth skin riding his stiff, firm pectoral muscles. He felt a hand clench in his shirt at the shoulder, and drew his gaze back up to Sanji's face. Sanji's expression begged him not to get distracted again. He pulled his shirt off over his head and leant back into the kiss with feverish determination. It was getting bad for both of them, now, half-kissing half-gasping, pressing together so that there was barely a hair between them.

Zoro wanted to be naked against Sanji, to lie between his strong muscular thighs and drive into him, but at this rate it would all be over too soon. He broke away. The cook responded by hooking impatient fingers into Zoro's trouser waistband, trying to bring him back.

"You're fucking killing me here," He breathed.

"I know." Zoro smirked. "Lie down."

This was one of the few occasions where he would do as he was told. Sanji indulged in the additional voluntary tacit of making himself entirely naked before he did so. Zoro returned to him, bearing the jar of chocolate sauce. Sanji's thighs parted encouragingly, and he kneeled between them. He rubbed a dab of the sauce between his thumb and forefinger, testing it. It truly was like liquid silk. Frictionless. He licked his fingers and looked down at Sanji, spread impatiently around him, arms up over his head, blushing and wanton with a cock so hard Zoro could barely keep his lips from it.

If there was ever a lonely moment where he needed an image, he decided that would be it.

He felt a jab to his hip as Sanji prodded him gently with a heel. "Take the rest off, bastard."

Zoro stood and removed his trousers and underwear, yanking them down and kicking them off with his boots away somewhere. He knelt down again, and lay between Sanji's legs. The cook practically moaned at just that, hooking his arms around Zoro. Their bodies were warm together. Zoro kissed him, gently, leisurely, knowing it would drive him crazy. Sanji bucked beneath him, adjusting his position so that Zoro's cock lay against his opening.

_Not just yet_

Zoro rose up onto elbows and knees, watching Sanji carefully, quite certain he was about to suffer violent repercussions. He got a stiff glare, but nothing worse.

He handed the sauce jar to Sanji.

"Show me where." He said.

Sanji simply stared back at him for a moment, taking the request in. Then he dipped a finger into the jar, and put it into his mouth. His lips puckered around the finger as he removed it, slowly, keeping his eyes on Zoro. Zoro bent over him and kissed him deeply, their tongues dragging together so Zoro could taste him. The kiss broke, and Zoro waited.

Sanji dipped his finger again, dragging a line up from his collar-bone to his earlobe as Zoro watched. The swordsman's tongue followed that line agonisingly slowly, the kisses and bites that accompanied it making Sanji's body shudder with want. But that was the thing; he was in control now. Zoro would go exactly where he wanted, where he needed. He drew a line down, finger gliding smoothly over his own nipples, flinching uncontrollably when Zoro's tongue found them. Further down to his abdomen, stopping just above the tight dark curls of his pubic hair. The breath was hard in his chest as he watched Zoro's head travel further south, his mind filled with the notion of making Zoro go down on him, demanding it through something he had made himself from scratch.

He ran two fingers over his erection, almost embarrassed to be so wet so soon. Zoro took all of him in, and he let his head fall back against the floor of the hold. It certainly wasn't a dessert sauce for the ladies any more. Zoro sucked hard on him and he almost came, legs spreading apart in anticipation, but it wasn't going to be that easy. The swordsman licked him once from base to head, and that was all he was getting. He thought of applying more, but he was desperate for something else. He spread some over his lips. Zoro bent down and licked across them slowly, hooking his tongue under Sanji's upper lip in a way that made the cook dig his fingernails into the boards.

Then Zoro kissed him properly and the sauce was all but forgotten. Sanji's legs hooked around Zoro's waist, locking at the ankles and bearing him down. When there was something he wanted, Sanji could be fearsomely strong.

Zoro thrust inside him and he practically melted, then regained himself, holding Zoro down, nails digging into his back and shoulders as the muscle writhed beneath. He knew the sauce would make a fantastic lubricant.

Zoro himself was way past the point of no return. There was no room in his mind for rational thoughts any longer; Sanji was the only thing that existed in the entire world, his scent, his warmth, his feel and voice being the only reality. The small pains dotted along his back and shoulders assured him this wasn't a dream.

Sanji came hard as Zoro slammed the orgasm from him, forgetting to breathe and nearly passing out. Then Zoro's body began to move erratically, his face smothered in the tell-tale signs of exquisite climax, mouth hanging open until he was done and collapsed against Sanji.

The cook looked at his nails, and felt a numbing guilt. Zoro's fingers slid between his and brought them down.

"Don't worry about it," He said, still panting. "I'm just going to have to work out with my shirt on for a while."

Sanji had wanted revenge on Zoro for that goading look the other morning. Sucking on Zoro's fingers and seeing his expression he had been sure he'd have it, but right now he didn't feel that sense of satisfaction that came from winning, from getting the upper hand.

He looked down at the olive-skinned fingers holding his, and stroked the side of Zoro's hand with his thumb.

No, it was a different sense of satisfaction all together.

* * *

Just a little note of thanks: my life's turned a bit shitty recently, in many areas. To be bluntly honest, the comments from you guys have really kept me going, and still keep me going. So this is a thank you to anyone who has ever commented/reviewed my stuff on LJ or FFdotnet.

It's seriously, really appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**4. Wake me up if you need me**

Zoro was splayed out on deck, basking in the sun and snoring like a machine gun. He'd probably started off sitting cross-legged as he always did, propped up against the wall at the stern of the ship, and slowly slid down until he'd found a position conducive to deep sleep – laid flat out, arms and legs pitched at all angles, never too far from his katana (which, unlike their unrefined master, had kept their position against the wall).

Sanji kicked the sole of Zoro's boot, not hard, but hard enough to disturb a normal person from sleep. Zoro barely stirred. Sanji remembered he was dealing with a practiced napper, and that more drastic measures might need to be taken. He put his foot to Zoro's, carefully bending the man's foot back until it reached a position that should have been painful enough to rouse him from slumber. Still nothing. He released Zoro's foot, and it flopped back. He took a deep inhale of nicotine and flung his cigarette off the side of the ship, exhaling quietly and looking around to see if anyone might be coming. He could hear Luffy's voice, but that wasn't anything unusual. Then Usopp, laughing, and Nami chastising them both.

He looked back down at Zoro, watching his sleeping expression, eyes flitting around tracking unseen targets. Sanji wondered what he might be dreaming about. He looked Zoro up from groin to head, gaze lingering in a way that wouldn't have been possible if the other man had been awake. The breeze pushed some of his hair into his eyes, and he ushered it away with a flick of his hand. The fabric of Zoro's shirt rippled gently over the muscle beneath it.

Sanji knelt down and straddled him carefully, trying to limit the contact between his body and Zoro's, and positioned himself. He let his weight drop down, planting his ass over the groin of the sleeping man and covering his mouth. Zoro woke abruptly, a hand twitching towards his katana until he realised who was sitting on him.

He raised an eyebrow at the cook. What Sanji wanted was obvious from his expression. Zoro looked down at the erection tenting the man's trousers then back up to his face.

"I'm invoking Rule Four." He announced. His voice had that deep, rough quality that spoke of need and sex.

Zoro took his wrist gently and pulled it down, removing the cook's hand from his mouth. He looked up at the sky, and thought for a moment. "You made lunch yet?"

"No, why the hell does that matter? Don't tell me you're thinking of food-"

Zoro grabbed him by the waist and rolled him roughly onto his back, his lips close so that they almost kissed when the swordsman spoke.

"I'm not. If you want this right now, we have to make preparations. It's risky enough just lying like this out in the open." Zoro ground down into him, forcing him to suck in breath. "Make lunch, it'll keep them distracted. Then go for a shower. I'll meet you down there."

Sanji swallowed and nodded. Zoro let him up and he dusted off his suit, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide his erection and walked off to the galley to prepare food.

It was probably the fastest he'd ever made a meal. When he called the crew in for lunch it came out as more of a battle-cry than an invitation and earned him a few choice glances. He tried his best to be suave and genial after that, convincing himself that there was nothing that couldn't wait.

His cock told him otherwise.

He excused himself from the table and left them to it, announcing loudly as he was leaving the galley that he was going to take a shower. He hoped to whatever deity there might or might not be that the shitty marimo on the deck of the stern hadn't fallen back asleep.

He set the shower running and began to undress, hoping with every passing moment to hear a knock at the door. When it eventually came he was so tense that he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was thankful Zoro hadn't seen.

"Oi, it's me." Came the voice from the other side of the door, low and discrete. So he hadn't fallen asleep after all. Sanji unhinged the lock and the door opened. Zoro closed it behind him.

There was a moment before they fell upon one-another where Sanji watched as Zoro looked him up from foot to head and their gazes connected, both knowing this was something they shouldn't be doing but doing it nonetheless, because not to would be infinitely worse.

Sanji was pulling at Zoro's clothes, desperate to get him free of them. "There's no time for that," He was told. That seemed unfair; he was already naked so only one of them needed to undress, essentially only taking half the time it usually did, but he was in no state to communicate this.

Zoro kissed him deeply and held him close, hands firm and wandering over his body, torn between the conflicting needs to enjoy him and to get the job done before they were found out. The latter took over, and Sanji was flattened against the wall of the bathroom as Zoro unzipped. He went into his pocket for his bottle of lubricant but was too slow; Sanji raised a leg at an angle that would have been obscene for a normal person, and, holding Zoro's ass, thrust him inside.

The change in Zoro's expression was exquisite. He dropped the bottle, gripping Sanji's thigh instead and fucking him hard, biting on his neck. The sex was raw, primal.

Exactly what Sanji needed.

He wanted to be loud with it, but they didn't have that luxury. He bit his lip and watched Zoro's face as he wound up to orgasm, blushing heavily under furrowed brows.

_Why…why is it I can't get enough of you?_

Zoro took Sanji's cock in hand and he almost burst, yanking the man's shirt and haramaki up and out of the way of what would inevitably be a messy end. It meant he got a better view of Zoro, hard muscles in his abdomen working with each thrust to push in deep and fast.

The swordsman had a face on him like he wanted something more, like he wanted to lean in and kiss Sanji but didn't want to break the rhythm. Sanji grinned at him. He was about to come, and Zoro had driven him there in no time at all.

_Is it because you're such a damn good fuck I can't help myself?_

It had been Zoro's rule, Zoro's idea entirely. No strings attached, no requirement for reciprocated favours, simply 'if you need me to take care of something, I don't care when, wake me up'. At the time the man had mentioned it Sanji didn't think there was any chance he'd need to use it, but here he was during the hours of broad daylight being screwed to within an inch of his life at his own impatient request. Sanji had expected Zoro to make a quip, perhaps deride him for low willpower, but he had been true to his word and simply 'taken care of things' without comment. Somehow, Zoro knew how to give him exactly what he wanted without him having to ask.

"I'm," He managed, head tipping back as he lanced into orgasm. He was dimly aware of Zoro bucking beneath him, trying desperately to stay upright through climax. The man withdrew and stumbled backwards a couple of steps, holding his shirt out of the ejaculate Sanji had plastered over his stomach. When he looked up, Sanji was still standing there, leg hoisted up and to the side.

He watched as his orgasm slid out and ran down the cook's thigh.

He leaned forward, resting on his knees, suddenly light-headed in the increasing humidity of the shower room.

"I need to lie down." He muttered.

"You spend half your life lying down."

"Above or beneath you, mostly."

That brought a fearsome blush to Sanji's cheeks, and Zoro grinned.

The cook flung a damp towel at his head. "Get out, bastard."

--------------

One thing you could always count on when Zoro was on watch would be his falling asleep on duty, and tonight was no exception. Sanji sighed down at him, hooking an arm over the lip of the crow's nest. He brought a coiled finger to Zoro's forehead and flicked. The man awoke with a start.

"Why do we even bother to send you up here? It's as though we're just making you sleep in another part of the ship for an evening."

Zoro scowled and rubbed his temple. "It's not like I wouldn't wake up if something important happened. What do you want, anyway?"

Sanji handed him a small parcel, wrapped in cloth. Inside was a flask of fresh coffee and a little wooden tray full of biscuits of different kinds. "Be grateful, shithead." He jumped down to the deck.

"Oi," Zoro said, leaning over the crow's nest. "Anything you need to get back to?"

Sanji stopped and looked up at him. "No, why?"

He brandished one of the biscuits. "I can't eat all these by myself, shit-cook."

"Are you inviting me to join you?"

"No, I just need someone who'll eat the ones that taste like crap"

"_The hell did you say?_" Sanji yelled, shinning angrily up the rigging.


	5. Chapter 5

**5. When you discover something you really like, it's difficult to stop doing it**

Zoro was a bastard. A freaking asshole. He kept his lips just far enough away that Sanji couldn't reach them even if his craned his neck, which he wouldn't do anyway because he didn't want Zoro to know how badly he wanted them. Zoro held his wrists, pinning him to the wooden food crate, watching his expression as he ground his hips into Sanji's, rubbing their erections together through restrictive clothing.

Sanji was doing his best to keep his cool, trying not to give Zoro the satisfaction of knowing how good it felt, of knowing how it was driving him to distraction. Fucking shithead.

Zoro leaned in and he broke, opening his lips for a deep kiss he wanted so badly but that never came. Zoro teased him open-mouthed, letting their lips touch but not giving Sanji anything more.

The cook let out a frustrated 'haa', blushing in irritation at his own lack of control and beginning to writhe under Zoro's grip, struggling to get his wrists free. Zoro grinned at him, that same maddening expression he always got when he thought he'd won at something.

Sanji was strong against him, and Zoro's hands were starting to ache from the effort of restraining him. He knew he had perhaps another minute before he wound the cook up enough that Sanji would be able to overpower him. Zoro pressed fully against Sanji, avoiding his lips out of principle, and thrust his hips. The strength drained momentarily from Sanji's wrists and he stopped struggling, opening his thighs to the feeling of Zoro dry-fucking him.

Zoro's underwear was sticking to him from pre-come. He wanted to feel how wet Sanji was, to shove his hand down there and find out how hot and intolerably hard his cock had become, but if he let go of even one of the man's wrists he'd be in trouble.

Sanji was panting in his ear, hot and heady as he lost it piece by piece.

A truce, then.

Zoro leant in to Sanji's ear, lips brushing his lobe. "I'm going to blow you," He breathed.

Sanji stilled and relaxed, and Zoro let his wrists free gently.

Sanji decided that as long as Zoro's lips were on him somewhere, it was ok. He pulled himself free of his trousers and underwear and pushed them down so that they fell around his ankles. He pressed himself to Zoro, hot even through Zoro's clothing.

Zoro's hands wandered down to Sanji's bare hips and ass, stroking his soft, smooth skin. Sanji opened his eyes and caught Zoro looking at him in that way he had sometimes; that enigmatic almost-smile. The swordsman looked away, blushing, and dropped to his knees.

Sanji almost cried out as Zoro's mouth slipped round his erection, settling instead for a screwed-up expression and a stifled grunt. It felt so good and Zoro had worked him up so ruthlessly that he knew he wouldn't last long. He had to savour the moment, watching Zoro intently as he worked, slow and leisurely as though Sanji was doing him a favour just to let him suck on his cock. Their eyes met and Zoro pushed down on him, taking him deep.

His entire awareness centred in on Zoro's mouth, on the actions of his lips and incredible tongue. He opened his legs wider and Zoro took the hint, slipping two fingers up inside him. Zoro was careful not to touch where Sanji was most sensitive just yet, instead playing with him lightly, making the head of his cock tingle. Stupid shitty bastard was damn good at giving head.

It was annoying, how much he looked like he was enjoying it. Having another guy suck on your dick was all well and good, damn good in fact, but the thought of having a dick in his own mouth wasn't exactly at the peak of Sanji's fantasies. He'd done it a couple of times when they'd engaged in mutual fellatio, but it seemed to do far more for Zoro than it did for him. He suspected the other man might be pretending for his sake, and that pissed him off, especially as Zoro apparently didn't mind getting a mouthful of ejaculate, and _swallowing_ at that. Surely that was beyond anyone's remit of a good sexual experience. Not that he was complaining; it was fucking hot from his end of things, but Sanji didn't like the feeling Zoro might be doing something he didn't altogether enjoy simply for Sanji's benefit.

He scowled down at the swordsman. "You don't have to pretend to like it so much."

Zoro met his gaze with a long drag of his tongue along Sanji's shaft. "I'm not pretending." He said, matter-of-factly.

Sanji's face lit up with a fierce blush. Zoro actually liked doing it. Liked having Sanji between his lips, liked winding him up to orgasm with practiced tongue, liked having Sanji come inside him. The sudden realisation combined with Zoro pressing gently on that place he'd been careful not to touch earlier fired Sanji helplessly over the edge, release shooting through him and out into Zoro's waiting mouth. When he was finished, Sanji felt like he'd been hit by a Marine battleship travelling at full speed.

He'd just about regained his faculties in time to watch Zoro milk the last of him and swallow. Sanji had no idea why the swallowing was so arousing, it just was. Zoro licked over the head of Sanji's relaxing cock, making him shudder from sensitivity, then stood and wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand.

"Look, I understand if it's not your thing or whatever," Zoro told him, "But I enjoy doing it so don't go all weird on me."

That was that settled, then. Zoro's words were making Sanji hot under the collar again. The swordsman leaned in, lips flushed from use. "And it's ok if _you_ can't handle doing it." He whispered. Now Sanji was hot under the collar for a different reason.

He stepped free of the clothes restraining his ankles and, grabbing Zoro at the shoulders, span the man round and slammed him against the crate, knocking the breath from his lungs. Zoro looked back at him, face full of surprise.

"_Can't handle it?_" Sanji whispered harshly, palm rubbing over Zoro's erection.

Zoro grinned. It shouldn't have been so easy. Sanji's expression was a wonderful mixture of irritation, embarrassment and conflicted interest. "Hey, I was just fucking around, I don't expect-" Sanji's hand covered his mouth and stopped the rest of his sentence.

"Shut up! I'm doing this." He dropped to his knees and unzipped Zoro. The swordsman was rock hard. Sanji ran a hand over him and watched as a drop of clear, sticky pre-come formed at his slit.

"Seriously, you don't-" Zoro was pushing away at his forehead, annoying asshole.

Sanji put the flat of his tongue to Zoro's erection, on the taut bridge just beneath the head of his cock, and licked up. Zoro shut up damn quick. Sanji could taste him, and it wasn't terrible. He decided that he'd continue. He wet his lips and pushed down over Zoro, hearing a faint thud as the man's head fell back against the crate. His hands were clutching on the crate beside his hips. He might have wanted to slide them into Sanji's hair, but after the cook's rebuttal the first time they'd done this, he probably didn't want to try it again. Which was a shame, as Sanji probably would have let him.

He was trying to remember what it was that Zoro did to him that felt so good. A certain pressure in the mouth. Hands and lips acting in concert. Lips and tongue working together. He closed his eyes so he could concentrate on what he was doing. Zoro was so hard Sanji could practically feel his pulse.

The way Zoro responded with each slide of his hand, the way the head of his cock flared past Sanji's lips as he withdrew, the feel of him on the flat of his tongue…it wasn't unpleasant.

He hadn't noticed before, but Zoro smelled good. A deep, musky scent that made him hard all over again. He ran a hand up Zoro's firm, muscular thigh, settling a thumb behind his balls and stroking there. The taste in his mouth changed. He looked up and felt his own cock twitch with want. Zoro's eyes were screwed shut and his mouth hung open, brows knitted closely. He pressed a little harder with his thumb. Zoro's head fell to the side and his eyes opened a fraction. Realising that he could _taste_ how aroused the other man was felt like an erotic epiphany.

Sanji could only want more. There were other things Zoro did to him, he remembered, things that drove him out of his mind. His fingers wandered back, but Zoro stopped him.

"Don't," He managed, barely able to contain himself. The strain in his voice was delicious.

_Why the hell not?_ He thought, but said nothing. His mouth was occupied with more important things.

Zoro answered his question anyway. "You'll make me loud."

As if that was a bad thing. Alright, it was, but in the moment Sanji decided he almost didn't care. Zoro barely put up any resistance as he slipped a finger in, curling it forward to stroke gently across where he knew it felt good. Zoro's nails dug into the crate, and Sanji's mouth filled with that taste. He got the urge to touch himself but his hands were busy. He pressed his finger inside Zoro and felt the man shudder, tensing around him, cock bobbing in his mouth.

Zoro put a hand to his shoulder, palm slicked with sweat, and pushed on him. "St-op,"

_No_

"Sanji, _stop_,"

_No,_

"If you don't stop, I'll-"

_I know, stupid shithead, just come already_

Zoro's last act before orgasm was to clamp both hands over his mouth, smothering his own cries as he pulsed hot climax between Sanji's lips. He could feel the rhythm of Zoro's ejaculation through the underside of his cock before it entered his mouth. Sanji had expected to choke, but that didn't happen.

Zoro was a wreck; flushed and breathing heavily, eyes closed and shuddering with sensitivity. When Sanji pulled his finger out of Zoro's ass the man almost buckled.

Sanji stood and Zoro met his gaze. The cook had that look again. He shoved Zoro's shirt and haramaki further up his torso and leant into him, hand moving rapidly over his own erection, kissing and biting at him and watching his face.

It was only then that Zoro's addled brain realised that Sanji had swallowed. The cook grinned at his surprised face and kissed him again, feeling Zoro's fingers work into his curtained hair and travel down his spine, drifting over his ass and holding him close as he reached orgasm yet again, biting down on the swordsman's shoulder.

If he was honest, it hadn't been unpleasant at all. If he was more honest, it was quite the opposite, and he was already thinking of doing it again.


	6. Chapter 6

**6****. Reverse positions where you can**

The port town was bustling with morning traffic. Raucous cries of traders peddling their wares drifted up the street, carrying over the heads of the thronging people who were eager to get the best of the first catch fresh off the boats. The place was truly a pirate's haven what with its taverns and easy-going feel, but there was never any trouble despite the complete lack of a marine presence on the island. A group of huge, burly fishermen strutted past, and Sanji had an inkling why that might be.

He drew on his cigarette and watched the people, nostrils full of the scents of the sea and the delicate perfumes of the various young ladies milling about. His eyes centred in on one woman in particular – soft, beautiful features and hair like brown spun-silk, red summer dress cinched in at the waist accentuating the curve of her hip and breasts. Her smile was kind, radiant.

Sanji leaned back against the wall, watching the woman, noticing the air of grace about her as she laughed gently with her friends. Her eyes met Sanji's and suddenly he was back on the Baratie, heart fluttering over pretty girls, working his magic on them with his flattery and avoiding Zeff's rage at his unproductiveness. He crushed his cigarette under his boot and smiled at her. She smiled back.

"Room 30, got it, thanks." Zoro's voice came loudly from inside the inn.

Sanji's body responded before he had time to think, turning in the direction of the inn's entrance. Only now did he realise how tense he'd been waiting for Zoro to get a damn room, listening so carefully and intently in case he missed the signal, in case he missed some of the number and found himself knocking on someone else's door. He felt an odd dull realisation as his interest in flirtation evaporated. The woman was gorgeous, just his type, and she'd smiled at him, _smiled_ as though beckoning him to her and yet he'd dropped her like a hot rock left in the sun at the sound of Zoro's voice.

He was still puzzling slowly over it when he felt a rush of wind. The woman shrieked behind him and he turned knowing what had happened but also knowing it was too late – she was holding her dress down at her knees, blushing coyly and getting lustful glances from strange men. Were it not for Zoro's interruption, Sanji would have been treated to a fine display.

He felt himself make a sort of internal shrug, as though it didn't really matter, but a part of him was screaming, yelling that something wasn't right and that he should care far more than he did about missing a fine woman's panties, about engaging in flirtations only to pass the time while his lover found a room for them both. It cried out that he was going in the wrong direction, that he should be escorting Ms. Red Dress to the best restaurant in town and, once sated, decrying their terrible cuisine and later seducing her with his own concoctions rather than climbing the stairs of the inn.

His heart hammered in his chest and his breathing quickened even though the exercise wasn't nearly enough to put him out of breath. His body was showing the dissenting regions of his mind what he really wanted, but he still felt conflicted. The flutter of a woman's eyelashes, the dive of her cleavage and sway of her hips did things to him; made him go light-headed and giddy and idiotic, made him want to treat and to pamper and undress them as though they were made of thin glass. Zoro drew him in from the gut and the groin with ropes made of steel.

Even now he was hard just thinking about it, that they could be alone together and be naked together, each step getting more painful to take as the fold of his trousers rubbed sharply on his cock.

He decided he didn't want to think about it any more but the thoughts hung around his head like flies, buzzing their discontent harshly in his ears as he rounded the corner and came up on room 30. He brought a hand up to knock and stopped.

But not for the reasons he might have anticipated. He was nervous as hell, and his fist was shaking, knuckles white from tension. He couldn't let Zoro see him in such a state and gave himself a moment of composure, flattening his shirt and smoothing his hair. He couldn't even understand why the hell he was so tense. Something small surfaced in him in answer, just for a split second, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the other conflicting thoughts.

_Because it matters_

He ignored it and knocked on the door. "Oi, it's me," He said, swallowing and hoping he hadn't come across as coiled as he felt.

"It's open." Zoro told him. Sanji wondered if it was just his imagination that he heard the same strain in the swordsman's voice.

He pushed the door open and walked in, one hand in his pocket. Zoro was slightly bent, placing his katana carefully against a chair. The room was nice. Nice in that there was a bed in it. Sanji didn't notice much else, because it wasn't important. He shut the door behind him and stepped towards Zoro, who had a face on him like he was feigning irritation in order to hide something else.

"You took your fucking ti-"

Sanji kissed him and he shut up without any protest.

Zoro kissed Sanji back deeply, softly at first with slow, gentle tongue and brushing lips. It was a good kiss. A better-than-good kiss. Then Zoro's fingers pushed up his neck into his hair, clenching and pulling on him as the kiss became harder. The kind of kiss that made things ignite in Sanji.

He backed Zoro towards the bed, hands firmly on the swordsman's hips. Hard, muscular hips. He felt as though fire was pumping through his veins in place of blood. Zoro's hands were wandering over him, pressing and feeling him through his shirt, riding the lines of his concealed muscles, pushing him towards his limit when they weren't even undressed yet.

It was the kiss that was the problem. Zoro was kissing him tenderly, passionately, and he just couldn't take it. Lips that shouldn't have been so soft, tongue sharp from caustic insults that tripped so leisurely over his own. Sanji opened his eyes a fraction and caught Zoro doing the same. He felt himself blush uncontrollably.

Zoro's hands drifted down his back, fingers following the line of his spine and making him shiver open-mouthed against Zoro's lips. This was no good at all. Everything inside his mind was deafened by one, single overriding desire; gone was Ms. Red Dress, gone were the anxieties and the confusion, obliterated by his want. He needed to be inside Zoro. He'd waited for this opportunity patiently, enjoying his lot as the one with the better orgasms until they reached land, but now it was all too much. He wanted to push inside, to feel Zoro's strength and warmth from within, to fuck him to climax and drive that noise from him in a place where it didn't matter how loud his name was yelled. More than anything Sanji wanted Zoro to shout out his name again.

Sanji swallowed hard and broke from Zoro's lips, fingers all but tearing the man's trousers open, gaining a surprised 'Oi,' but nothing in the way of resistance. Zoro grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and brought him back into the kiss he was so keen to simultaneously avoid and return to. Sanji's hands dove down the back of Zoro's trousers, finding his tight, full ass and groping him shamelessly as the clothes fell from his hips. He leant away slightly and looked down at Zoro's erection, pressed hard against his hip, tight and full and needy.

He pushed Zoro roughly onto the bed and yanked off the man's boots and clothes so he was bottom half-naked. Zoro grabbed Sanji by the shirt and pulled him down on top, legs wrapping around him as Sanji fumbled with his own belt and zip and pulled out his cock. He looked down at Zoro.

"Have you got any-"

"No time for that."

Zoro was every bit as needy as Sanji was, flexing and arching beneath him impatiently.

Sanji slipped inside him easily, pushing through hot muscle and barely able to contain himself. He let a 'fuck' slip out, and earned a grin from Zoro. Then he started to move, and the expression fell from Zoro's face, his head dropping back against the bed.

Sanji pressed down against him, sliding his hands down beneath Zoro's ass and slowly adjusting the angle of the swordsman's hips until he hit the right spot. Zoro gasped, and he knew he'd found it.

Zoro looked up at him, eyebrows knitted and mouth hanging open, watching his face. Sanji kissed him hard, feeling Zoro's fingers tighten in the back of his shirt as he rocked hard against him, driving harsh complaints from the bed beneath them, increasing in pitch like Zoro's voice as Sanji fucked him faster.

"Sanji…"

_Fuck_

"Sanji…!"

_**Oh god stop**__Don't stopsayitlouder_

Sanji flattened his belly against Zoro, rubbing over his cock with each thrust.

"Fuck I'm gonna come,"

Sanji relinquished Zoro's lips and watched his face intently, feeling the pressure build behind his own balls and letting the heat of the moment fill his mind, knowing that Zoro was about to push him over the edge and ignite the electric sensation in his groin to pure pleasure, feeling the other man tighten around him in anticipation and wanting only to fuck him harder.

Zoro came, and Sanji's orgasm was mixed with the delirious satisfaction of hearing his name shouted over and over, Zoro showing no restraint as usual as Sanji emptied deep into him.

It had been worth the wait. Well worth the wait.

He put his forehead to Zoro's and withdrew, then lay beside him forcing a final creak from the bed.

"How long do we have?" Zoro asked him.

"About two-and-a-half hours." Sanji replied, his breath still ragged.

They lay panting side-by-side, silent in their agreement that that wasn't nearly long enough.

Zoro sat up, legs hanging off the end of the bed, and pulled his shirt off along with his haramaki. Sanji could see the sheen of sweat on his back. He felt much sweatier than Zoro looked but he was too exhausted to do anything about it. Not to mention that his shirt was now covered in the swordsman's orgasm and was sticking to his skin. He wondered dimly how to explain that away.

Zoro stood and walked over to the little bedside table beside Sanji where there was a jug of water and two stout clay cups. He poured one and handed it to the cook who took it and drained it eagerly, leaning up on one elbow as though it took the greatest of efforts. Zoro smiled at him in a sort of sideways way and turned to look out of the window, reaching forward to push the panes open. A fair breeze drifted in, chiming Zoro's earrings together as he stood and let his body cool.

Sanji closed his eyes and listened. The delicate sound of those chimes was soothing somehow. He opened them again and looked over at Zoro, perfectly naked in front of an overlooked window.

Zoro had the most incredible curves. Not soft and fleshy like a woman's, but curves nonetheless; the broad, strong line of his shoulders down to the narrow point of his waist, the curve of that line gently outwards as it took in his hips, the full round of his ass – not a woman's curves but undeniably arousing.

Sanji lay back on the bed, blushing fiercely and unbuttoning his shirt. He hung it on the back of the chair and decided to worry about the mess later. Trousers and socks and underwear followed it, until Sanji too was naked. Zoro had his eyes closed, face contented, leaning against the surround of the window and letting the sunlight wash over him. It was a minute or more before Sanji realised he was staring like an idiot.

He moved up behind Zoro, hands brushing over his ass to his hips and then round, settling just along the lines down to his groin. He had expected Zoro to flinch slightly at his touch, what with him being in what seemed to be a meditative state, but he did the opposite, relaxing ever-so-slightly back against Sanji as though he welcomed it. His hands went to Sanji's and drove them down slowly into his thick, warm curls. Sanji was brimming with want all over again. He kissed the curve of Zoro's neck to his shoulder as Zoro's fingers slipped between his, guiding his hands.

At Zoro's instruction Sanji ran his hand over Zoro's reawakening erection, the fingers of the other reaching down to stroke his balls and making the swordsman shudder and tense. Zoro looked down, watching their hands work together.

Sanji built him up slowly, giving him exactly what he wanted. He was being told what to do, being guided and shown exactly what Zoro liked and it was hard not to take mental notes. Sometimes he felt like he was joining in as Zoro masturbated, but that thought was explosive so he tried not to dwell on it.

Zoro increased the rhythm of the hand Sanji had on his cock, and Sanji could feel him getting wet. The hand behind Zoro's balls was pushed further down, pressing in lazy circular motions. Zoro kept pushing their hands down, further down until the tip of Sanji's finger rested over his entrance.

Then Zoro pushed both their fingers inside together.

_Holy shit_

Sanji felt his eyes go wide.

Zoro slowed the hand on his cock, and focussed attention on their fingers. Gentle movements in and out, back and forth together through that ring of tight muscle, finding the ejaculate Sanji had left earlier. Sanji felt himself become stuck in a loop of thought – this couldn't be happening because it was too hot to fathom but it _was_ happening and Sanji was helping Zoro fuck himself but that was to hot to even think about…

Zoro felt good enough inside to drive him to distraction normally, but this was on a completely different plane. Zoro was in there with him. Or rather, Sanji was in there with Zoro, privy to and respondent to his deepest desires. Zoro tensed and stopped both Sanji's hands by squeezing his fingers.

It was only then that Sanji realised the hand on Zoro's cock was slick with pre-come. He wanted to touch more, desperately wanted to move the fingers they had inside, but he waited for Zoro to tell him when, kissing him encouragingly on the shoulder.

Zoro was breathing hard again. He pushed their fingers in deeper and Sanji lay his forehead against Zoro's back, waiting for a signal, any signal, anything so he could move again.

Zoro's finger curled forward over Sanji's and the cook followed suit, pressing against the soft warmth until Zoro's body shook. He tensed, and everything stopped again.

Sanji was screaming internally for more. He wondered how often Zoro had done this by himself.

Zoro waited, controlling his breathing as though that would help. Sanji was begging him wordlessly to move. Eventually he calmed down enough to go. Sanji bit down on Zoro's shoulder, hand working his tight erection as their fingers pressed deep. Zoro pulled Sanji's hands out and away suddenly, tensing and sucking breath in through his teeth. A moment passed and he released Sanji, turning to face him.

"Fuck me." He breathed.

Sanji obliged in record speed, slamming him against the wall front-on and sliding into his ass, slipping between those divine curves, driving in and out as though his life depended on it.

He wrapped his fingers round Zoro's cock.

"Put your hand on mine," He said. Zoro's fingers joined them, interlocking with them as they both worked him towards climax. It wasn't long until either of them came.

Exhausted, Sanji withdrew and flopped back onto the bed. Zoro downed half of the contents of the water jug then joined him.

They lay together for a while, listening to the noise from the street outside. Zoro shifted around a lot, much to Sanji's irritation, until he found a comfortable position: at a tangent to Sanji, head resting back against the cook's hip.

Sanji was lost in thought, being deliriously honest with himself under the effects of post-post-coital haze.

_Well, fuck, if that wasn't the hottest thing that's ever happened to me…the only thing that comes close to anything I've done with him was that one drunken, cock-less fumble with the girl from that dinner party at the Baratie. And she didn't feel anywhere near as good inside as he does_

"What song is that?"

"Eh?" Sanji looked down at Zoro so abruptly his head swam.

"The song you're humming."

He had only been half-thinking about it at most. He continued another couple of bars to remind himself. "No idea. Can't even remember the words." He thought about it. "I think it was something my mother used to sing to me when I was really young. A sea-shanty of some sort. Can't even remember her face but I remember that tune." He sighed gently and looked out of the open window, curtains billowing lazily around it in the breeze. "It comes to me on the rare occasions when I'm feeling-" He stopped himself and frowned, but his mind had already completed the sentence.

_content_

Zoro's fingers graced his chin, and green eyes that were usually sharp regarded him upside down with something different. "Keep humming." Zoro told him. "I like it."

-b-

He was thinking it would be a good idea to lay his hands on Zoro, to run his fingers down the line of his neck and rest a palm on his chest to feel his warmth and his heartbeat, to hold him there so that they never had to move. But Sanji kept the urge to himself, and his hand stayed planted on his own stomach.

He watched Zoro from the corner of his eye as the man played his fingers through the shaft of rich mid-afternoon sun streaming in through the window. Dextrous and delicate, toying with the light as though it was a curtain of fine silk, invisible everywhere but where it touched his beautiful olive skin.

He knew Zoro. Zoro was brutal, harsh, aggravating.

The flat of the swordsman's hand moved into the light, and he raised his head slightly to watch the shadows dance from it.

He was a monster. A demon.

Sanji reached forward and put the tips of his fingers to the back of Zoro's hand. His skin seemed bright against the swordsman's. He slid his fingers forward, gliding between Zoro's as they stretched apart and then closed with a squeezing pressure.

Blood-soaked and battle-hungry, victory and honour at any cost.

Zoro brought the back of Sanji's hand to his lips. He inhaled deeply, and Sanji felt him smile. He pulled his hand away and reached for a cigarette, suddenly in desperate need. Zoro held his hand out, perhaps waiting for Sanji's fingers to return. When they didn't, he rolled onto his belly and kissed the cook's hip lightly. Sanji was looking out of the window.

He noticed Zoro looking and shot him an annoyed glare. Zoro couldn't help himself and grinned.

"How long have we got?"

Sanji grabbed his pocket watch from the bedside table and pressed a thumb to it. It flicked open. "Less than an hour." Something in the cook's voice betrayed the disappointment he was trying to hide.

Zoro ran his fingers through the dark brown-ish curls of Sanji's groin. "I always thought you'd be blond down here."

"Why the hell would you think that when yours are black?"

Zoro offered a lazy shrug. His fingers wandered to the sharp angle of Sanji's hip bone. He pressed at it and Sanji watched his face, suddenly seeming to become lost in thought.

"What did you think about when you were on that island?"

"We've been on a lot of them, dumbass, which one in particular?"

Zoro looked irritated. "The one where you nearly starved to death, what the fuck else would I be talking about?"

If that was Zoro's way of getting him to talk it wasn't going to work. "Well how the fuck am I supposed to understand the thoughts that come out of that plant-brain of yours?"

But Zoro didn't rise to it. He simply lay there, fixing Sanji's gaze, hand planted firmly on the point of Sanji's hip. "You know what I'm talking about now, so answer the damn question."

Sanji inhaled deeply and exhaled with exasperation. "What the hell does it matter?"

"It matters because I want to know."

"Well what the fuck do you think I thought about? I was marooned on a fucking rock for nearly four weeks, I had nothing _but _time to think about shit. I spent the first three days desperately trying to stay awake in case a ship passed in the night, the first week thinking a ship would be along any minute, counting upwards again and again until I lost count and then I'd start over. I thought about my parents, I thought about the asshole on the other side of the island who'd gotten me into this mess, wondering if it would have been better if I'd died in the sea. Then my food ran out and I thought about all the times I'd thrown left-overs away, how I was going to die in the vastness of the ocean and not be missed by anybody.

And I thought of All Blue; how I'd never know for sure if it was real." He looked angrily down at Zoro. "There. Happy now? Cause that's the truth and you fucking asked so if you don't like the answer it's tough shit." But Zoro wasn't angry. He looked back at Sanji and regarded him coolly.

Sanji ran a finger along Zoro's scar. "I have to learn the hard way just how much will and effort it takes just to stay alive, and shitheads like you show up content to throw it all away as though it's meaningless." His eyes met Zoro's. "Well, fuck you. You've no idea." He said, and returned to looking out of the window.

Zoro straddled him. Sanji wanted to throw him off and explain how he definitely wasn't in the mood, but Zoro anticipated this and caught his hands before he could. Sanji scowled at him, but Zoro had that determined look he got sometimes.

He kissed the resistant cook gently and whispered: "_I'm glad you didn't die._"

Sanji was suddenly in the mood again.

-b-

They were an hour late getting back to the boat with fresh supplies, and the crew were restless. Sanji blamed Zoro for getting them lost. Zoro blamed Sanji for needing to get a new shirt. Nami beat them both to a pulp, screeching about how terrible it would've been for them if the log had actually reset, and letting them know how close they'd been to that certain doom.

They both held the silent agreement that it had been worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

(This one might be familiar to some of you :1)

**7. Be Captain of your own desires**

The sound of hard boots hitting concrete rang out along the prison wing, steadily closing in on his cell, pounding in his head like a hammer inside a bell. The footfalls were heavy, unhurried as the captain inspected the inmates one by one.

The boots stopped just outside his cell, scraping as their wearer stopped and turned. Sanji looked up at him through the bars, squinting into the harsh light of the corridor.

"This one," The captain said, and the Marine beside him nodded.

Sanji was led to another room in a different part of the gaol, wrists bound in heavy metal manacles that were nipping cold against his skin. The concrete beneath his shoes turned to marble, a beautiful swirling black speckled with white and green.

He couldn't believe they'd caught him, that he'd allowed them to catch him by letting his guard down so horrifically. He lifted his hands with a sharp clink from the chains, rubbing at his neck where they'd darted him with what must have been a sedative. That was yesterday, and he still felt groggy now.

The Marine at his side shook his arm angrily and he dropped his hands again, curling his lip at the offensive little man. But now wasn't the time for action. They were infinitely foolish for binding his hands rather than his ankles, and he could still kick. It was like they didn't know what they were dealing with; they'd just identified him as one of the Straw Hats and brought him in for questioning without knowing what he was capable of. He'd find a way out easily. The little tour he'd just taken had showed him well enough where the weaknesses in the gaol's security and perimeter were. He was lucky they were so stupid.

The Marine escort brought him to a large, solid door at the end of the long marble corridor. It was unusually cool and Sanji realised they had been walking along a downward slope for some time, so wherever this was it was underground, beneath the Marine compound. The man glared at Sanji and knocked on the door. A reluctant, tentative knock of politeness that meant whoever was inside must be important.

"Come in." That same voice from earlier, deep and rich.

The man opened the door and dragged Sanji with him. "Sir," he said, pulling Sanji to a part of the room where there was a built-in restraint to which wrist manacles could be clamped. An odd thing to have in an office. Sanji resisted but was clipped with a padlock to the hook, stretching his arms up above his head. He was tall enough that his arms could hang freely from it without much discomfort.

The Marine bowed his leave and closed the door behind him.

The captain sat at his desk, writing on papers. The whole time Sanji had been in the room, the man hadn't looked up once. The surroundings were quite opulent, for a man who was just a captain. Drapes of red, blue and gold hung from the walls, drawing the eye to an ornate wooden bookcase filled with dusty old ship's logs and volumes of the Encyclopaedia Aquatica. The desk itself was sitting on a luscious blue rug and made of broad, richly coloured oak, moulded and sculpted with fine detail and topped by red leather and gold trim. Even if he was just a captain, the man liked to seem important. But Sanji knew important men liked to put themselves above everyone else in a physical sense, usually by having their offices or places of business at the top of buildings. This office was below everything else.

The captain still hadn't paid him any attention, and Sanji was becoming irritated. If he had to stand here in chains, he wanted at least to know why.

"Oi," He said, gruffly. He needed a cigarette.

The captain turned a page over, wafting it gently to let the ink dry on one side.

"Oi!" Sanji insisted.

"You're impatient," The captain said, without looking up.

"What do you want, bastard?"

There was a soft sound as the captain stood, pushing his chair back with his knees. His eyes met with Sanji's; hard, calculating eyes that burned with something he couldn't place. Sanji swallowed.

The man clasped his hands behind his back and walked slowly over towards him, stopping just outside the range of Sanji's kick.

He had a broad, muscular body, noticeable even below his uniform and white overcoat with the gold lapels they all wore. He looked into Sanji's face with subtle amusement, the corners of his mouth only just pulling up.

"Tell me about your captain." He said.

Sanji straightened up, trying to test the strength of the hook without being noticed. He said nothing.

"Mugiwara…" the man said, carefully forming each syllable. "You've all caused us quite a few problems."

"Fuck you, nothing the Marines haven't deserved."

He laughed. Gentle. Alluring. "Some of us just want to keep the peace. Protect the people. Some of us have dreams beyond simply attaining power."

"I'll believe that when I see it. What kind of corrupt bastard keeps his office out of sight down marbled corridors, eh?"

The captain laughed again, cocking his head to one side. Sanji could see the strength in him, the power that led out from his shoulders. "You think I'm corrupt?"

Sanji clanged the chain holding his manacles against the hook that pinned him to the wall in illustration of his point.

"So you're saying, 'why else would I have one of those in my office'?"

Sanji glared back at him.

"I have it for questioning. This way, we can have a nice conversation in a place that doesn't reek of piss."

That made sense at least, but Sanji sensed something odd about the other man. Something that, though he didn't want to admit it, was making him hot under the collar.

The Captain pulled off his overcoat and hung it on a coatstand, along with his hat. He turned back to Sanji and grinned.

His hair was bright green.

"**Sanji-kun, how did you cut yourself?"**

"**Oh, Nami-san, do not waste your worries on your humble servant." **

_**My mind was …**__**wandering…something that shouldn't happen in the presence of sharp knives**_

"How long have you been travelling together?"

Sanji said nothing.

"I'm just asking out of interest,"

Still nothing. The man came closer. Almost in range.

"Let me have your name, at least."

Sanji stared back at him, eyes fixed.

The captain folded his arms and sighed. He leaned in. "So stubborn. I'll have to find a way to loosen your tongue,"

Sanji launched at him, swinging a heel at his face. The captain caught his ankle, barely moving. His grip was fierce.

"**Sanji, oyatsu!"**

"There's no need for violence." He said. His free hand moved to Sanji's shin, stroking up beneath his trousers with determined fingers.

"**Sanji! **_**Sanji!**_**"**

"The fuck are you doing?" Sanji yelled, jerking his leg free of the captain's grip. The man grinned at him. Then Sanji felt himself pinned to the wall, the captain's arm under his chin. Hot breath fell against his cheek.

"I don't think you completely understand the situation. Down here, I can do whatever I want with you."

"_**Oyatsu!**_** SANJI!"**

"**WHAT"**

**Luffy dove behind the nearest barrel, eyes only just peeking over.**

The captain's face was close. Lips brushed his neck softly, and Sanji shivered. He was turned roughly and shoved against the wall, plastered to it by the man's hot body.

"Tell me what I want to know." He demanded.

"I'm not telling you anything, bastard."

There was a sudden tearing noise as the captain ripped Sanji's shirt open over his back, opening his hot skin up to the cool air. Fingers glided up his spine, slick and sticky with his sweat. His body flexed encouragingly beneath them without his intention, his hands balling into fists and his eyes closing.

"Tell me your name." The captain whispered into his ear, pressing against him. Sanji could feel spots of cold against his skin from the man's uniform buttons.

"Get off me," He said, unconvincingly.

"You're breathing hard already, I haven't done anything yet."

"Get off me!" Sanji's hips pivoted, bringing his leg up again in a swinging kick. The captain caught him at the thigh, applying his fingers to a pressure point that made Sanji's leg lose strength and go limp. His face was shoved hard into the wall. "Shit,"

"Don't do that again." He was told. Blood trickled down his cheek from a cut above his eye. He looked down at the tatters of shirt now hanging from his arms.

He felt the man's hands move over him, down his back to rest on his hips. He lay his forehead against one arm. Why the hell was he so responsive, so sensitive under this bastard's touch? Thumbs pressed hard into his lower back and tilted his hips easily. A hand reached round and grabbed his groin.

"You're hard from all this?" There was mockery in the captain's voice. "So you like to be treated rough,"

Sanji's face flushed hard with the embarrassment of being found out. Hands travelled round to his front and began pulling on his erect nipples. He was desperate not to gasp, not to react, not to give any response that would add to the man's satisfaction, and bit down hard on his lip.

**"Z-Zoro,"**

** "Hah..?"**

The hands at his chest navigated downward over his shuddering torso and pulled roughly at his trouser zip, tearing it open and pushing inside his underwear. He gasped and tried to pull away, backing his ass into the captain's bulging erection and not managing to escape the sudden stranglehold on his cock. There was no way to get out of it. His hands were bound and his legs were held fast in a position he couldn't manoeuvre from.

He hated himself for wanting it, but it felt good; to be helpless under another man's caress, to be unable to free himself from it with no option other than to submit. His body was responding to it in ways he couldn't have predicted.

He was hot all over, succumbing to the captain's desire to have his way, hands clenching now from frustration rather than the urge to be free. He heard a noise as the man undid his own zip, felt the tip of his cock connect in the right place, hidden through layers of restricting fabric. He wanted them gone, wanted them pulled down and away so that the captain could get at him properly, but with his hands in chains it wasn't something he could do himself. He looked down at the hand on his erection, fucking him roughly and bearing him quickly towards climax.

The man pulled his hand away, leaving Sanji desperate and hard enough to burst. A fingertip stroked gently over his head, smearing him with pre-come. That sensation alone was enough to keep him near orgasm, but nowhere near enough to push him over. The breath was ragged though his lips, and he was close to losing all self-control.

**"Zoro, ngh…"**

** "What? What is it?"**

"Sanji," He said through clenched teeth, demanding internally that the man return his hand and finish what he started. Right now he would do whatever it took. There would be time to regret it later.

Fingers closed around him again and he almost died with relief. "See, that wasn't so hard." The captain's hand moved slowly, building him up again at a frustrating pace. He thrust his hips forward and the grip dissolved. "The point of this exercise isn't for you to get what you want."

"I've told you mine, at least tell me yours. Now that we're so closely acquainted,"

"Roronoa Zoro."

Zoro yanked Sanji's pants down. Sanji spread his legs on his own, tilting his hips towards the captain.

**"Fuck me…rough…I want you to fuck me rough…"**

"Are you asking me to fuck you?"

Sanji's fingernails scraped against the wood panelling of the office and dug into the grain. He nodded.

**"I mean it,"**

Zoro pushed his face into the wall and pulled his hips back, forcing his hot, tight erection inside. Sanji took it all like he was supposed to, moaning like a whore for it. He didn't care if he was used as a fuck-toy if it felt this good. Hell, he was man enough to admit it.

He was dripping wet, desperate for orgasm. Zoro was pounding him, the strength behind each thrust nearly forcing him into the wall. He looked down at his cock again, badly in need of attention. He ground his teeth, wanting to touch himself, wanting to be touched but getting neither. Zoro stroked a finger over him and up to his slit, and that was enough to make him gasp.

"Feels like you're ready to come."

He curled his lip in annoyance, refusing to respond. Zoro drove into him faster, forcing frustrated tears into his eyes. There was nothing he could do, he had to wait for what Zoro would give him.

"But you're so _fucking hot_ inside, shit I could slide in and out of you all day,"

He was so close to the brink, so hard and so wet under the touch of the man he was helpless to, the build-up was becoming so agonizing he could barely take it any more. He hated that the man could push him like that, enough to make him forget himself and give in completely to the demands of another. He wanted to feel climax, feel the release he was owed for this misadventure.

"Ah! Captain…"

"'_**Captain'**_**?"**

_**Shit! **_**OH FUCK **_**what if he thinks I mean LUFFY **_**undoitundoitundoit…**

"**It's not…what you think…I just…I'll tell you after just please fucking **_**move**_**,"**

A hand found his cock and gripped him hard, working him fast in synchrony with that thrusting rhythm and driving him towards screaming orgasm. He came, head snapping back and noise spilling from his mouth. He heard himself shout the captain's name through the thick syrup of his ecstasy, ejaculating hard all over the fancy wooden panelling in front of him.

When he was finished he hung limp from the manacles, exhausted. Zoro withdrew, and he felt come leak put of his ass and down his inner thigh with an odd sense of satisfaction.

"**If that's what it takes to get just one piece of information from you, this will be a very long process indeed." **

"**Shithead marimo, if you so much as mention this to anyone, I will fucking kill you and slice you julienne." **


	8. Chapter 8

Written for Noodlesticks over on livejournal

* * *

**8. Tie me up, tie me down**

Sanji hummed to himself as he tied the new rigging, perched on a crate in the hold and surrounded by different sizes of rope. He worked the coarse, coiled fibres into tight knots with his deft fingers in much the same way as he might tie a roast. He turned both hands palm-up and inspected them. The rope was beginning to rub on his hands, his fingers becoming red and complaining, but it didn't bother him too much. After all, he had been the one to volunteer for the task. It was a duty he could only trust himself with; Luffy was an option that didn't even merit thinking about, Usopp had far too strong an affinity for flammable items, Chopper was lacking opposable thumbs and he certainly couldn't have the delicate ladies perform such a menial task. He looked at his hands again. If they had come out like this he could never forgive himself. And if they'd left it to Zoro he would have fallen asleep by now and they'd never have any new rigging.

Sanji nodded to himself and began tying again, foot tapping the beat to the tune he was humming as he contemplated taking a cigarette break. The door creaked open, and he looked up. Zoro peered in, almost silhouetted by the warm summer sunlight.

"You're not done yet?"

"What the hell did you expect? It takes time to tie this stuff."

Zoro scratched at the back of his head, spending an uncertain moment at the door before stepping inside. He slumped down against a crate nearby, resting his katana gently on the floor beside him. He closed his eyes and fidgeted a bit, finding a comfortable position.

He cracked an eye open and peered at Sanji. The cook regarded him with moderate irritation. "It's too hot to sleep out there." He said, and closed his eye again.

"How about not sleeping at all and doing some fucking work for a change?"

"Fuck you, I do my share."

"Like hell."

Something heavy dropped onto Zoro's chest, making him start. He stared down at the coiled rope.

"Make some use for yourself and help me tie this."

Zoro brushed it off him and onto the floor. Sanji's lip curled. "You volunteered, don't involve me in it." He said, yawning.

Sanji's knot-tying became more emphatic as his annoyance rose, but he said nothing. He became aware that Zoro was still watching him, rather than sleeping. "_What?_" He growled, glaring over. Zoro was paying close attention to his hands.

"You're tying it wrong." He said.

"And what the fuck would you know about rope-tying, shithead?"

"More than you, it seems."

"I've lived on ships most of my damn life, I know what I'm doing."

Zoro reached over and nonchalantly tugged on a part of Sanji's brand new rigging. It unravelled. "Like I said; you're tying it wrong."

Sanji stared down at his hands, at the limp assortment of roped tangled at his feet. Anger coiled in his gut, not at Zoro but at himself. He'd been at it for nearly three hours. This fact didn't make Zoro's correction any less irritating, however. "What the hell are you doing, bastard?"

"Making the world a safer place."

"You can make it a _better _place by jumping off the fucking ship." Sanji told him, planting a foot on his face. Zoro shoved him out of the way, grinning. "But not before you've sorted out the damn mess you've made."

Zoro stood, stretching. He looked over at Sanji. "Your mess, not mine. Not my fault you can't tie a decent knot."

Sanji grabbed his arm as he made his way past. "Oh, I know how to tie a decent knot,"

He was quick; far quicker than Zoro could have anticipated. The rope he used was finer than the rope he'd used for the rigging, easier for Sanji's practised hands to work with. His wrists were bound before he was fully aware of what was happening. Sanji tugged on the rope, making Zoro's hands bob. He grinned.

Then Zoro's hands were behind his neck, the rope relaxed slightly and re-tied to suit his new his position. Sanji slid the two ends of it over Zoro's chest and under his armpits, wrapping them around a number of times and finally tying it off at his waist. The cook leant back, face full of amusement.

Zoro tried to pull his wrists free, but they were fastened together too strongly. He tried to get his hands back over his head, but the binds over his chest were too tight. He was stuck. He looked at Sanji. "I can't move." He said, as though the fact should be surprising.

Sanji looked at him flatly. "That was the point, idiot."

Point proven, Sanji figured he should probably release Zoro, as fun as it would be to leave him partly incapacitated for the rest of the day. Then he looked Zoro up and down, and a thought occurred to him. He could tell Zoro recognised his expression.

He pulled Zoro close by the tie at his waist.

"Oi," The swordsman protested, trying to resist.

Sanji held him still with one hand, the other free to wander. He slipped three fingers down the back of Zoro's trousers.

"_What the hell are you thinking?_" Zoro hissed, cheeks already hot.

Sanji tongued Zoro's nipples through his shirt, dragging the fabric over and back, making it wet with his saliva so that when he blew on it it felt cool to Zoro's skin.

Despite his voiced objections, Zoro was practically straddling him. Sanji grabbed him and forced him roughly to the floor, kneeling across him as he bound his knee with another rope. Now there was no way the bastard could escape.

Zoro writhed underneath him as much as was possible, but Sanji slipped between his thighs and pinned him.

"Get the fuck off me and _untie_ me, pervert-cook!"

Sanji ground his hips slowly into Zoro's, delighting in his change of expression. "Your body's far more honest than your mouth, shitty marimo." He bit down on Zoro's bottom lip gently and reached down to the man's zip, undoing it and releasing the tension of fabric restraining Zoro's hard cock. Zoro was still trying to get away, fidgeting and trying to pull back from Sanji's grasp. Sanji reached into Zoro's trousers and realised something was odd.

"You're not wearing any underwear."

"I know." Zoro replied through gritted teeth as though it wasn't entirely Issue Of The Day.

"You _'know'_? How often to you do this?"

He made a kind of facial shrug. "From time to time."

Sanji stared down at him, the cogs in his mind working it over. This was the first time he'd noticed, but when he thought about it he couldn't often recall being aware of Zoro's underwear, but this was probably because he regarded it only as an extra layer to get through rather than a thing to be contemplated in and of itself. Then he thought about it some more. All the fights they'd been in, all the fights they'd had with other people, all the times he'd seen Zoro training; he could have been 'hanging free' and Sanji wouldn't have even guessed. Now, it would be a very different story.

Three things went off consecutively in Sanji's mind. Firstly, that from now on he'd probably spend a large portion of the day trying to ascertain Zoro's underwear status; secondly that he still couldn't figure out why the concept was so hot; thirdly that not only was today a non-underwear day, it was also the day Sanji had restrained the swordsman to a point where he could have his way entirely.

Zoro looked none-too-pleased with the scenario, but that was just too damn bad. Sanji knelt up and admired his handywork. The ropes were tight over Zoro's torso, straining with each breath and raising his shirt so that it drifted up from his haramaki. The other rope held his leg fast. Sanji felt himself grin as a number of ideas sprang to mind. He shot Zoro a knowing look and bent down over him, lips close to his ear.

"Cooperate with everything I say." He whispered. "I'm going to make you come so hard you'll never forget it." Zoro opened his mouth to speak, but Sanji covered his lips. "If you say anything, demand anything, if you even _look _like you want it, this is all over."

Sanji felt the tension flood out from Zoro's body. His compliant expression made Sanji hot in places he didn't even know existed. Zoro said nothing as the cook's fingers drifted southward again; nothing as they wrapped around his erection and squeezed him tightly.

This was a terrible idea. Anyone could walk in at any time and find them, and there would be absolutely no way of explaining it. But Zoro knew full well there was a way out of it. Sanji had informed him quite clearly – all he had to do was say something, anything, and it would all be over. Except that Zoro didn't want it to be over, far from it. Being helpless and unable to escape, being restrained and at the mercy of another should have made him feel horrendously uncomfortable but it didn't. If he was honest he was attempting to escape Sanji's grasp because he felt that he should, rather than actually wanting to. The cook's hot, whispered words had given him the excuse he needed to stop struggling.

Sanji rubbed his hot cock along Zoro's, taking them both in hand and working slowly, thrusting his hips at a frustrating pace. Sanji was impressed and a little annoyed at Zoro's willpower. The only outward signs he was enjoying himself were the blush on his cheeks and the tightness of his erection. Then something exploded in Sanji's head, sending the cogs of his mind reeling and spinning out of synch.

Zoro was submitting. Completely and entirely submitting.

Sanji adjusted his position so that he was straddling Zoro's restrained torso. He pushed the tip of his cock to Zoro's lips, but the man didn't open them. Then he realised, and blushed hard.

"Open your mouth."

Zoro obliged, fixing his gaze with that same burning want he always had during sex. Sanji decided he'd let it pass. He slid his cock between Zoro's lips and almost gasped from the sensation. He ran his fingers through Zoro's hair and curled them tight.

"Suck on it."

He felt Zoro's wet tongue slide up against him, felt the familiar pressure inside his mouth. Sanji flicked his hips slowly, driving in and out of Zoro, over and back across his waiting tongue, back and forth through his lips, holding him there. He withdrew all the way then pushed inside again, watching his cock disappear. It felt too fucking good. He pulled his erection free, wondering if that was disappointment which registered briefly on the swordsman's face.

He stood and slipped back between Zoro's thighs, pulling the man's free leg out of his trousers so that he could get at him properly.

It was almost like meditation. But during meditation Zoro's goal was to turn off any external stimuli, to shut them out and concentrate on his inner world whereas now he was letting the experience flow into him, his mind and senses so heightened that he could feel every move Sanji made, every aspect of his caress. The sensations flooded his mind, pooled and swelled and took over everything, but he couldn't show it. The more he resisted the external demonstration of his state of mind, the more he could feel. Sanji's hot breath over the head of his cock and his wandering fingers. The pressure of the ropes holding his arms and leg, the tension restraining his chest with each inhalation. Everything was more defined because he couldn't react to it. The cook was driving him crazy, but he couldn't show it, wasn't allowed to show it.

All he could do was lie there and take it, wanting more of Sanji's touch, wanting those clever hands all over his body, those hot lips to his own, begging internally for release but unable to do anything.

Sanji pushed inside him and he nearly broke. The cook himself was a blushing mess, watching Zoro intently as he found his rhythm with hips and hand in tandem, rubbing over and over where it felt so good Zoro thought he might die from it. It was very difficult to hold back now. He wanted to cover his mouth with his hands but he couldn't. If Sanji didn't stop, if he didn't do something they were going to have a very loud and embarrassing problem. But still he couldn't say anything, didn't want to break the moment and speak in case Sanji stopped like he'd threatened to. The pleasure came over him in tight waves, washing up from his groin and balling into his gut.

He felt relief and frustration in equal measure when Sanji stopped abruptly.

Zoro was in a bad way, Sanji knew him well enough now to see it even if the swordsman wasn't shouting the ship down. They both knew that was precisely _why_ it was such a bad idea for Sanji to do the fucking, but sometimes it just ended up that way. Besides, waiting for the next island to appear just took too damn long. Zoro tensed and squeezed around him, reminding him why it was worth the risk.

Sanji's eyes rested on Zoro's bandana, and an idea lodged in his brain. He was right; it made the perfect gag. Zoro seemed glad to have something to bite down on and when he came it was with minimal noise despite ejaculating hard enough to get some of it across his cheek. Having gotten what he wanted, Zoro relaxed from polite submission back to his normal self and Sanji could see the strain in his face, the sweat on his brow. Zoro was dripping with the after-effects of incredible, overwhelming pleasure and it turned Sanji on more than he could even fathom.

It was then he realised that even though he'd asked for Zoro's total and utter cooperation, even though he'd instructed him to be non-responsive in order to receive orgasm, what _really_ got to him was mutual gratification.

He wasn't only screwing Zoro because it felt good, but because Zoro felt good too.

Tied up, spent, bound and gagged with his own orgasm plastered across his cheek; the moment before he came, Sanji admitted it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

The moment after, he thought that maybe he'd transcended onto another metaphysical plane. Zoro brought him back down to Earth by tensing around him and making him flinch. He looked down at the apparently irritated swordsman, then tugged the bandana from his mouth.

"Would you hurry the fuck up and untie me?"

Sanji considered this. He withdrew, got to his feet and zipped up. Zoro was watching him carefully. Sanji took a step towards the door.

"Oi,"

Another step.

"Oi!"

And another.

"You had better not even be thinking of leaving me like this you piece of shit!"

But that was exactly what Sanji was thinking. A tied and bound and all-too-willing Zoro was just too good an opportunity to squander by untying him just yet. But first, he needed a glass of water. And a cigarette.

* * *

This rambling collection of porn now has marvellous fanart by Feral Inari. Go here: dreaming-fate(dot)livejournal(dot)com(slash)11191(dot)html


	9. Chapter 9

**9. Don't let your mouth write a cheque that your ass can't cash**

"You know, I was thinking."

"Congratulations."

"When I make you come, you yell uncontrollably. Yet when you make me come, I don't."

"What's your point?"

"I'm just saying, maybe that means I'm better at it than you."

-b-

Zoro took great amusement from the patterns emerging in Sanji's behaviour. The way he would start the day with an air of properness and gentle civility, tending to the women at breakfast; the way that air had evaporated by lunchtime along with Luffy's third or fourth meal. His seamless flitting between zoo-keeper and maître d'. How he always got irritable by the evening if they hadn't fucked yet. Some days, even if they had.

Zoro yawned and stretched out his legs, hooking them over the side of the crow's nest. He paddled his feet lazily in the air and listened to the commotion below with a knowing, unseen grin, watching the sky slowly darken.

Luffy had decided it was time for another supper. Usopp agreed. Sanji had decided it was high time everyone fucked off to bed. Usopp, Luffy and Chopper disagreed. Nami had decided everyone was being far too rowdy of a cool summer's evening, and offered a violent ultimatum. Her terms were quickly accepted.

Zoro got himself up with great difficulty and climbed down the rigging to the deck. He walked past them towards the trap-door to the men's sleeping quarters.

"G'night." He muttered and went below, climbing into his hammock and finding a comfortable position.

And then he waited.

Luffy, Usopp and Chopper made their way to bed not long after him, taking a little while to settle. Zoro stared into the dark, listening to them drop off to sleep one by one.

The hatch opened again, and Zoro pretended to be asleep like the rest of them as someone climbed down. He felt a prod in his side, but didn't react. Then a pinch at his leg which made him jolt. He glared up at the cook.

"_What?_"

"I need your help with something."

"Sanji..." Luffy snored, rolling over in his hammock, "Meat..."

"No meat for you, shitty-gomu,"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Sanji ground his teeth. "I _need_ your _help_ with _something._"He said, planting a hand over Zoro's groin.

"Alright!" Zoro hissed, pushing him away. "Fuck.."

Sanji seemed restless. He turned away and made for the ladder to the deck. Zoro slipped a hand discretely into his pocket and fumbled around, pulling out a small round ball. He popped it into his mouth and swallowed it, then followed the cook.

Zoro watched Sanji carefully as they moved to the hold. The cook was strung tight, tension obvious in his neck, shoulders and the way he moved. He pushed his way through the door, shoving it a little too roughly and causing it to whack against the wall. Zoro followed him in and he turned, face flushed and hand already pulling at his tie before the door had even closed behind them.

Zoro took Sanji's hands and stopped them, replacing them with his own. He teased the end of the black silk tie out through the knot, keeping his face close to Sanji's, close enough to feel the cook's breath against his cheek. He was already breathing hard. Zoro slid the tie free of Sanji's collar, dragging it slowly through the crisp tunnel of shirt around his neck, watching his face. Slow was definitely not what Sanji wanted.

_Know your partner. Know what they desire most and know exactly how to provide it, or exactly how to keep them wanting _

Zoro dropped the tie into a coil at Sanji's feet and pulled him close. Sanji made to kiss him but Zoro avoided his lips. He tugged Sanji's shirt free of his trousers at the back and slid his hands underneath to the cook's warm, soft skin. The muscles beneath twisted and writhed encouragingly as Sanji pressed himself against Zoro, running fingers into his hair and trying to draw him out, trying to get to his mouth but Zoro wouldn't let him. Sanji pulled at the back of Zoro's shirt in frustration.

Zoro moved his hands gradually up the cook's back, touching him only by the fingertips. Sanji's hands were all over him, trying to show him the pace he needed.

_Take the time to make their body hot. A slow start can reap major rewards in the end._

Zoro ignored him, refusing to respond to his silent plea for a fast fuck. He shrugged the cook off and set to unbuttoning his shirt, popping tiny, hard circles through their corresponding fabric holes one by one. By now, Sanji was practically exasperated. He went to unzip himself but Zoro pulled his hands away again, not moving his eyes from Sanji's shirt. The last button fell, and the cook's shirt joined the tie at his feet.

Sanji put his forehead to Zoro's, trying to get him to look up. He didn't. Sanji's fingers tugged hard in his hair, wanting to change the angle of his head and claim his mouth but he didn't allow it. He had the feeling Sanji would have protested outright had he not been dipping down below his waistband at the time. Fingertips slid over Sanji's tight ass and guided his trousers and underwear to the floor. He stepped free and kicked his shoes across the room. They landed noisily somewhere in the dark.

Zoro admired his naked form with gentle drifting touches that circled places he knew felt good, never actually reaching them.

_Find the places they like to be touched. Exploit the erogenous zones_

Zoro looked up into Sanji's face and got a reaction as though that alone was enough to give the cook pleasure. Sanji's hands fisted in the material of his shirt and haramaki, pulling him in. He obliged, pressing Sanji's bare body back against the wooden wall of the hold, almost kissing his neck but not quite making contact. Sanji was shuddering, panting as if they'd been going at it hard when Zoro hadn't even started on him yet. He felt Sanji's hands go down on him and caught him by the wrists. The cook twisted in his grip, a mixture of frustration and trying to free himself as he ground his hips into Zoro. The swordsman shifted his position, pulling his ass away so that Sanji had nothing to grind on.

The cook gritted his teeth and glared at him as though that would make a difference. Then Zoro leaned in, and his expression changed entirely. He brushed his lips against Sanji's hot cheek, travelling down to his mouth, kissing him just on the very corner of his lips.

Sanji moaned; a curtailed 'haa', but a moan nonetheless, and from something that hadn't even been a full kiss. Zoro smiled against him, then kissed him properly.

It was as though Sanji could feel everything in the entire world. Sense it. Taste it. He was a part of it and it a part of him, with no way of separating the two. Every move Zoro made over his body sent waves of sensation pulsing outwards, setting every nerve ending on edge, stoking the fire in his gut and groin. He was about ready to come from Zoro just kissing him, making him leave wet patches on the man's hip.

There was something in the lack of urgency; the gentle determination of his wandering hands, the soft caress of his lips and tongue that was coiling Sanji like a spring. Perhaps it was that Zoro was enjoying him, perhaps it was that he was so desperate for a good, hard fuck and not getting it, having to make do with the swordsman's subdued, calm approach to his body, but whatever it was he was quickly losing the battle.

He broke from the kiss and bit down hard on Zoro's lower lip, hard enough to almost leave a mark. Zoro barely reacted. Sanji wanted him to snap out of whatever had possessed him, whatever this sensual experiment was, and get down to what they both needed. Zoro shifted position, sliding a leg between Sanji's and nudging his groin. Sanji moaned again and clamped a hand over his mouth, vastly irritated at his own lack of control. He hated that Zoro was so calm and collected while he was so swiftly losing it.

The swordsman kissed over his hand and he removed it immediately, claiming Zoro's mouth, pulling him into the kiss with both arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the bastard to increase his pace. Still the kiss was slow and full and gentle, still Zoro's fingers circled his nipples and his spine and his thighs and his groin without actually touching anything, still Sanji was left wanting.

He rubbed himself along Zoro's thigh, body acting out of instinct, desperate to fuck or be fucked. With the heightened sensations and cruel deprivation even that felt damn good. Zoro realised he was having too much fun and dropped his thigh a little so that it was just out of reach. Sanji hissed against his lips but it changed nothing.

He decided he was too frustrated to cope any more and reached down, working his own erection, finally getting the pleasure he needed, fingers and palm slick with sweat and pre-come as his hand moved quicker. He had expected Zoro to stop him but he didn't. He just continued with what he was doing, tongue diving under Sanji's upper lip.

"_Have I ever left you unsatisfied?_" Zoro whispered, biting him carefully.

The remark stopped Sanji dead. His cock was feeling good, his balls tight and close and ready to go, but for some reason Zoro's whispered words meant he couldn't proceed any further. Zoro hadn't physically stopped him, which technically meant that he could keep going and get off like he wanted to, but the man had made him think twice about it.

No, Zoro had always satisfied him completely. Which was why he was always itching for more about half-way through the next day. A voice in the back of his mind leaned forward momentarily to wonder precisely why it was that screwing Zoro left him so content, but he shoved it away again.

"_Then trust that I know what I'm doing._"

Zoro was doing it all on purpose. Whatever it was, whatever he had in mind that had resulted in this cruel tease, it was for a reason. Sanji leaned back mentally from the situation just long enough to realise that he had been, up to now, the _sole_ focus of their encounter. He was the one standing naked, he was the one getting felt up and losing his mind under a haze of raw heat, he was the one demanding, expecting everything he wanted and not offering anything in return.

He released his cock and Zoro pressed up against him, grinding against him with sharp circular motions that forced him to suck in breath around the man's soft, full lips.

It felt incredibly good, far better than he thought it should. They were moving together, pushing and thrusting and grinding with the same rhythm, cooperating in a way they only ever could during sex. Sanji opened his eyes and looked into Zoro's face. He was studying Sanji's features, carefully watching his expression. The corner of his mouth pinched up.

"_You're about to come,_" He whispered, his words hanging hot and heavy in the close heat of the hold. Sanji hadn't known it was true until Zoro had said it. Which meant Zoro knew him far better and more intimately than he'd thought.

He came hard and wordlessly as always, taking a guilty pleasure in the fact that right now he was making a terrible mess of Zoro's clothes as the man ground the orgasm from him.

Sanji was dimly aware of Zoro's lips brushing his own as he came down, considering the fact that what the swordsman had just told him probably meant he had an 'orgasm' face. Now that he thought about it he could recall Zoro making what was probably that same look, though it seemed to change depending on their position. Zoro made good faces, he decided, and blushed hard when he opened his eyes to find Zoro staring right at him with that look that meant he was being figured out. Sanji didn't want Zoro to work out what he'd been thinking, and buried his face in the man's neck.

Zoro bit on Sanji's earlobe then turned him around. Sanji had expected him to be rough by now, for his urges to have taken over, but his touch was still tender. Fingers slid from his shoulders into his hair and down again, chasing the line of his spine and making him shudder. Sanji spread his legs as they slipped between his ass cheeks, pressure slow and firm, making him reawaken.

Zoro's fingers explored him gently, tracing over him and pressing where it felt good. He looked down at his cock, hard and full and leaking again already. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations at his groin. Zoro was slowly massaging his balls with what felt like the palm of one hand, the fingers of that hand rubbing along his shaft as the fingers of the other were free to play and wander.

Then Zoro's head slipped in between his thighs from behind. Sanji felt a pressure run along the space between his balls and his ass, something that felt different to anything he'd felt before. He put two and two together and his eyes snapped open. Zoro was kneeling behind him, using his tongue as well as his hands. On his knees, giving Sanji oral. He was used to that kind of thing from the front, but even from the back Zoro's mouth was just as talented.

Sanji watched as Zoro ran both hands up his legs from heel to inner thigh, travelling agonisingly slowly, heightening the pleasure and anticipation bunching in his groin. He kept his hands at the top of Sanji's legs, encouraging their spread. His hot, wet tongue slipped forward, pushing against Sanji's balls, making him drip. He was wound up enough to fire off again already.

One hand released him and reclaimed his right buttock, pulling his ass cheeks apart slightly as his other hand returned to Sanji's erection. Zoro's tongue slipped up, over to his opening. Over and back, over and back; warm and wet and soft and incredible.

Sanji realised his legs were shuddering and attempted to straighten and steady them, but Zoro held him fast. There would be no escape from his wandering tongue.

Sanji felt him push in. One hand working his erection, sliding down and around his shaft, fingers teasing and pinching his head; the other hand tugging on his balls and stroking behind them; and now Zoro had his tongue inside. Sanji wished he could see better what Zoro was doing, so he could appreciate it all. He tried to distract himself by isolating the sensations, concentrating on the feeling of Zoro's hot, flirtatious tongue and shutting the others out, but everything felt so good it was impossible. He lost the battle and everything flooded together - he was immediately aware of hands and lips and tongue all at once and fired helplessly, incredibly over the edge, bucking hard against Zoro's hand and trying desperately not to collapse.

Zoro released him and stood. Sanji straightened with some difficulty and turned to face him. He looked the swordsman over. Sanji had already come twice, and Zoro was still fully dressed. That seemed entirely unfair – not that he was complaining, he certainly had the better end of the bargain – not to mention that the swordsman still appeared pretty collected.

Zoro ran a sticky hand over Sanji's pale, bare hip and leant in to kiss him.

"What's with you tonight?" Sanji asked him before he got there.

Zoro pulled back slightly. "What do you mean?

"You're very...focussed..."

Zoro smirked and pulled off his clothes. Until that point Sanji hadn't realised how badly he'd wanted Zoro naked. The swordsman lay down, pulling the cook on top of him. Sanji raised his ass and guided Zoro inside, sliding slowly over him until he was all the way in. His body was shivering with sensitivity and near exhaustion.

He slowly realised that they'd never done it this way before, not with him on top. He could see it was starting to get to Zoro now – his face was flushed, hands pushing over Sanji firmly to his nipples. He remembered how great the view was from beneath and grinned down at the swordsman, starting to move his hips. He was sensitive as hell, but didn't care. This time, it wasn't about him.

Or so he thought. Zoro let him work for a while, watching him intently, looking him over as though he was storing the image for posterity, hands resting encouragingly on Sanji's knees. Sanji had expected him to come in no time, and was somewhat annoyed when it wasn't as easy as he'd hoped. After a while Zoro's hands drifted up to Sanji's hips, gently changing his angle and tilting him back. Sanji took the hints, thinking the adjustments were for Zoro's benefit.

It was only when he felt that familiar internal tension, once he'd angled his hips just right, that he realised it was for his own. He leant back on Zoro's legs and flicked his hips mercilessly, determined not to come before Zoro did, but only hastening his own end. He simply couldn't understand why the swordsman was so resistant. An odd, hot and unpleasant feeling settled along his back. The feeling that something was wrong.

He noticed Zoro's eyes flick over his features and guessed he wasn't being as discrete as he thought he was. The faintest sliver of concern registered on Zoro's face, chased away by a wanton grin.

His hand wandered down to tease Sanji's erection. "You look hot as hell up there."

"Fuck off,"

But whatever had been worrying him vanished. His spine was fast turning to molten silver and he was prepared to let it. He glanced down at Zoro.

"_You're about to come,_" He mouthed.

Zoro just grinned up at him and nodded, blushing hard and breathing fast. But then, so was Sanji. He was treated to some glorious facial pyrotechnics before reaching climax – for the third and final time that evening – and was at least satisfied that Zoro came before he did.

Sanji decided to discount the fact that Zoro was still in the grip of orgasm by the time he himself was done.

Sanji pulled off Zoro and lay beside him, facing him and propping his head up with his palm. Zoro turned his head to look at him, fingers threading through Sanji's dangling curtains, heavy with the sweat from his brow. Zoro's expression was warm, content. Sanji moved forward and kissed him without really meaning to.

"You were different tonight," He said, reclining again. He watched Zoro's breathing slow under the orange glow filtering in through the porthole. It caught the sweat on him and made his body glisten.

Zoro reached for his trousers and drew out a small packet of white paper. Inside the paper were some small grey pellets. About five of them.

"What the hell are those?"

"I picked them up when we were last docked at port. They're for sexual stamina. Worked; I could barely feel a thing." He said, looking down at his relaxed prick. When his gaze returned to Sanji's the cook was just staring back at him.

"Where the fuck would you get an idea like that?"

"It was in a book I read."

"What _book_?"

"I found a bookshop while you were fussing about getting a replacement shirt. Actually there wasn't much in there I didn't know already, but it did recommend these." He shook the packet and the little balls jiggled about.

"_Why, exactly, _did you buy those?"

"I'm loud when I come; you're not. You said that meant you were better, remember?" Sanji narrowed his eyes, recalling boasting something vaguely through a haze of post-coital bliss. "Turns out that you don't yell because you can't."

Sanji decided that it wasn't worth the effort to care that Zoro had figured him out, and let his head drop against the swordsman's shoulder. "I wondered where you'd run off to." He yawned. "Marimo."

"Oi," Zoro said softly. Sanji realised his eyes had closed, and opened them with great effort. "I hope you're not thinking of falling asleep here, like this,"

He looked around the room. Two entirely naked nakama surrounded by their discarded clothes and wearing all the signs of sex. That would certainly be a shock to the rest of the crew in the morning.

"I'm not falling asleep, asshole, but if you want me to stay awake quit stroking my fucking hair."

Zoro let out a soft laugh and sat up.

-b-

Sanji slept through breakfast entirely, waking only just in time for lunch. No matter how irritating the crew were, no matter how annoyed he felt he should have been, it was another full day before things started to grate on him again.

* * *

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	10. Chapter 10

**10. You're never as discrete as you think you are**

The crisp, clean motion of chopping gave Sanji immense satisfaction. The faintest hint of tension at the surface of the fated vegetable; the release of that tension as the knife slid through; the gentle thud as it reached the chopping board and then out again, to repeat, until everything was rendered into neat slices of equal thickness.

He found that slicing things finely was a good way to ease certain irritations, and today Zoro had been pissing him off quite spectacularly and with tremendous efficiency. He'd barely had a moment's rest without the swordsman poking or prodding him in some way or another. Sanji had no idea what the hell was up with him, but he was quite certain he'd had enough. Fighting physically was a bad idea; he knew it, and he knew Zoro knew it. Kicking and swiping turned all too easily into grabbing and grappling which would in no time at all become pulling and groping and Sanji was certain that wasn't something he wanted to show the rest of the crew.

So he kept his cool and gave Zoro some distance, but the more he tried to act aloof, the more Zoro would go out of his way – and Sanji was _absolutely certain _Zoro was employing special measures – to wind him up. Sanji was starting to suspect Zoro knew the fighting turned him on, meaning that knowing and not saying anything combined with exploiting Sanji's weakness made Zoro a bigger shithead than ever before.

Sanji swept the chopped vegetables into a stew pan and mixed them around with the tips of his fingers. The galley door swung open and he knew instantly who it was. There was a fleeting moment before he confirmed his suspicions where he realised he didn't actually know; just hoped he was right. He scowled at Zoro over his shoulder and went back to chopping.

"Oi, shit-cook," Zoro growled, in precisely the tone that fired Sanji's want and irritation simultaneously.

"What." He replied through gritted teeth, not turning round.

"You ready to fight or are you going to run away again?"

That was it. Sanji decided Zoro had pissed him off for the last time. If he had to see that fucking stupid-ass grin ever again it would be too much to bear. He drove his heel at Zoro's head with lightening speed, feeling a blunt grab of disappointment in his gut as it connected not with flesh but with steel.

He ground his teeth together and pushed the swordsman away, forcing him onto the back foot, and swung for him. Again and again he was blocked, parried, rerouted; every strike a failure. The galley wasn't big enough for them to fight properly in.

They settled a few paces apart, eyeing one-another up. Sanji relaxed his tie and glared at Zoro, who glared right back. Then Zoro looked him from foot to head, gaze languishing as a wry grin spread over his attractive features. Sanji refused to be swayed. If Zoro was going to let himself be distracted during a fight, that was his problem. All Sanji wanted was to drive his heel into that smug face, to pay Zoro back for being such an intolerable bastard, to gain the upper hand and show him precisely why fighting all-out in front of everyone was such a bad idea. He realised his own concentration had waned and met Zoro's gaze again with renewed focus.

They came at one-another, strikes and blades narrowly missing, lithe bodies twisting as they vied for dominance. Zoro feigned one way and Sanji bought it, making himself wide open for an attack. Zoro's katana slid up his trouser leg, the flat of the cold steel kissing his calf then wrenched away, slicing through the fabric and leaving it flapping at the knee.

"Fucking asshole!" Sanji spat, looking down at his leg.

"Block better, then." Zoro told him.

Sanji was furious. It was his fault that he'd given Zoro opportunity, but the bastard wasn't even fighting seriously. That cut was a mockery. A playful demonstration of skill.

Sanji launched at him, driving him back and onto the defensive, slamming him over into the wall with one extremely powerful kick. Zoro dusted himself off and grinned, wiping the blood from his cheek with the back of one hand and staring straight at Sanji.

"You look like you've got something to say." He said.

_fuck me._

"I've got nothing to say to you."

"You're a shitty liar, shit-cook. You've got it written all over you."

"The only thing I want to do right now is kick your fucking ass."

Zoro's movements were faster than before; more erratic. Sanji barely managed to dodge his blade as it sliced through his loosened tie knot, catching his neck and leaving a stinging streak on his skin. But Sanji's footwork was smarter than Zoro's. The swordsman was too close, too open, and Sanji hooked a leg behind his knee and brought him down easily.

They slammed hard into the floor, the cook straddling the swordsman's hips, the chopping knife he'd forgotten he was holding pressed beneath Zoro's chin. The thin line of Zoro's katana gleamed menacingly up to Sanji's throat.

A stalemate.

Sanji could feel Zoro's erection pressing up beneath him, and knew full well Zoro could see his.

Zoro's eyes flicked down to Sanji's wrist then back up to his face. "If you're going to do it, do it now, because when you point that away from me I swear I'm not going to stop for anything."

Sanji moved the blade away slowly then dropped it altogether, the clattering sound harsh and sudden in the tense atmosphere. Zoro put his katana down and sprang forward, hands at Sanji's back, kissing and licking over the thin mark he'd left on his neck.

Sanji grabbed him by the hair and pulled him away. "That's not where I want your tongue..." He whispered, blushing hard at his own words and grinding his ass against Zoro's groin.

The cook shoved himself to his feet and went to plant a foot squarely on Zoro's forehead. The swordsman rolled out of the way as Sanji's heel smashed into the floor where his head had been, standing awkwardly as his trousers shifted uncomfortably around his erection and only just managing to block a kick aimed at his side. He thrust his arm against Sanji's chest and rammed the cook into the wall.

They kissed hard, still struggling against one another, still pulling and fighting as they knocked pictures and hanging trinkets unfortunate enough to be around them noisily to the floor. Zoro hoisted Sanji up against the wall and still more were displaced as the fight was slowly forgotten, leaving only the raw, desperate want that had driven them to it in the first place. They slid down together, barely even aware they were descending until they reached the floor, hands diving into each-other's underwear with furious conviction to make the other come first. Sanji lost that particular battle, with Zoro close behind.

Then Zoro laughed softly with his sweaty brow pressed to Sanji's, and the fight was forgotten altogether. Sanji put a thumb to the the swordsman's lips and watched them smile around it.

Then the galley door opened.

They half-sprang, half-rolled apart, scrabbling to get themselves buttoned or zipped back up, trying desperately to figure out who it was that had discovered them.

"Is everything ok? I heard some loud noises." Chopper, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Zoro was hurriedly readjusting his haramaki. "Yes, fine, I was just, um, showing something to Sanji."

"What sort of something?"

"I have..a thing..and I wanted to check it out.."

"Like a medical thing?"

"…Yes."

Concern spread across Chopper's face. "Why didn't you come to see me?"

"He couldn't find you."

"Yeah, I couldn't find you."

"I was right outside, playing cards with Robin. You should have looked harder! This could be important! Let me see,"

"Ah, no Chopper it's ok…there's not a problem, it's fine"

"No, let me see. I'm your doctor." A pause. "Wait, why are you undressed like that too Sanji?"

"_Checking!_ He was just checking…that we had the same…thing…comparing…"

"What is it? I want to see, just in case."

"No really Chopper it's fine. Don't mention this to anyone, ok?"

**10.a. Maintain a reasonable state of undress **

What they were doing was an incredibly bad idea. This was why they had rules; so that in the heat of the moment they both knew they'd agreed to certain terms and conditions on their liaison – terms and conditions they had both agreed to abide by. Except that things never seemed to work out that way. Some rules they'd both decided on, some were the request of only one party, but all were rules nonetheless.

It hadn't taken either of them very long to work out that the 'rules' they'd come up with were about as flexible and malleable as their captain when neither side was particular about enforcing them. Never in the galley. Never during training. Never on deck. Never entirely naked on the ship. The latter two were only the latest in the long list of restrictions to fall as though they'd never existed in the first place.

They were both stark naked, splayed out on deck, going at it like they were tucked away from the world in some secluded shack. Never mind that it was in the early hours of morning and it was unlikely anyone would be up, it was a risk that wasn't worth taking.

Except that Zoro's cock was persuading Sanji otherwise.

The mutual hand-job earlier in the day hadn't been enough to relieve the tension in either of them and despite almost getting caught (saved only by Chopper's delightful innocence) it wasn't long before they both wanted more.

It wasn't necessary for them both to be naked, that was just the way they'd ended up. The undressing was part of the foreplay – to watch the other's body slowly revealed with each garment removed, even though they knew one-another pretty well by now; to kiss the newly exposed skin and press together – and it felt better that way for some reason.

And now Sanji was face down with his ass raised, trying to hold back as Zoro fucked him into the floor. Some days, like today, that was exactly what he wanted. He pushed back in rhythm with each thrust, tensing and squeezing with each withdrawal in silent and resigned appreciation of what he was getting. He raised himself slightly so that he could look down at his cock, Zoro's fingers working him masterfully towards climax. He changed the angle of his hips so Zoro couldn't rub on that place inside, chasing away the building release that was coming far too soon.

Zoro read him perfectly, and his hand slowed but his hips didn't. Sanji tilted his hips back to where they were and gasped as he felt it again, lip curling from frustration but still not wanting to go just yet. Zoro's rhythm slowed and Sanji guessed he was feeling it too, now. He reached back and stroked the swordsman's balls, and Zoro stopped moving altogether.

It was pretty obvious that had felt good. Zoro's hands ran firm over his back and his ass, and Sanji could hear him breathing hard. He squeezed again and the hands that had settled on his hips gripped him tight, nails digging in gently then relenting. Zoro pulled out all the way and pushed slowly back in again, making Sanji blush at the thought of him watching himself disappear inside. Zoro's speed steadily increased as he settled back into his rhythm, combining depth with tortuous precision, forcing Sanji to the edge in no time.

The return of Zoro's hand to his cock at precisely the right moment brought him shooting through shuddering release. The bastard made him feel so good it was fucking annoying.

Sanji decided it was time to reciprocate and reached down on Zoro again, palming his balls and pushing firmly behind them as Zoro thrust at him hard a few times, then erratically as he reached orgasm.

The only downside to this position was that Sanji couldn't see Zoro's face. Not that it mattered.

Zoro slipped out and lay panting on the deck beside him. Sanji reached into his shirt pocket and fished out a cigarette, lighting it with practised ease. He put his hands behind his head and glanced over at Zoro, who had his eyes closed.

He poked him with a heel. "Oi."

Zoro said nothing, but opened his eyes and looked sleepily skywards. Sanji did the same. The stars drifted above them like glitter spilled across a child's drawing.

"How many people have you done it with?" Sanji asked, not taking his eyes from the heavens.

Zoro rolled onto his side, watching the smoke drift lazily from the cook's cigarette. It seemed to be more for aesthetic than for use; Sanji wasn't paying it much attention at all. "Why do you want to know all of a sudden?"

Sanji scowled at him. "I'm just curious."

Zoro made a show of appearing to count in his head. "Just you," He grinned, and lay back.

After a while Sanji leaned over him and peered into his field of vision. "Don't you want to know how many people I've been with?"

Zoro shrugged. "Doesn't really matter." He said.

"Fine," Sanji muttered to his cigarette, rolling away. Then he rolled back. "Why the hell not?"

"Because it doesn't make any difference if you've been with ten or a hundred."

"Good to hear, because the figure's up there, so I'm glad you're comfortable with it."

"What, a hundred?"

"Nearly."

"Nearly like ten?"

"Almost,"

"Almost ten?"

"Right. Maybe more like five. Or one." He paused, scratching the back of his head. "I fingered a girl once!" He spluttered.

"Good for you. How was it?"

_unfulfilling_

"It was fine."

Zoro snorted. "It was 'fine'? Isn't that what you say about an uneventful trip to the doctor's?"

Sanji wanted to play annoyed, but a sort of coy grin spread over his face instead. "Shut up," He said, grinding his fist into Zoro's forehead. The swordsman caught his hand and pulled him in so that they lay face to face. Sanji flicked his cigarette away off the side of the ship, and kissed him.

It was different. Every other kiss had been foreplay, or part of sex, but not this. They were both satisfied, so there was no reason for it. And yet it felt inexplicably good, deeper in a way it hadn't before, and not just because of the kiss – Zoro's arm under his neck, hand in his hair as the other hand stroked down his side; the warmth of the thigh that wrapped around him and held him close.

Sanji decided it was because he was tired and delirious from orgasm, and the two combined were making him feel weird things. That explained, he was free to enjoy the moment. And free to ask a question he'd been pondering for a while.

His fingers found the oddly smooth skin of Zoro's scar and rubbed out from it slowly either side, noting the transition from firm, solid mass to more vulnerable tissue, then back. "Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if certain things hadn't happened?"

"Like what?"

"Sometimes I think about what it would've been like if I'd had a family like a normal kid, grown up on land instead of at sea; what it would be like if I'd known my parents."

"I don't really give it much thought – the past is the past and you can't change it so there's no reason to dwell on it."

"You don't ever think about what your life would be like if your childhood friend was still alive?"

Zoro considered this. "Ok, I guess so. I wonder if I ever would have beaten her, and whether I would have gone to sea at all. I might not have had any reason to leave the village."

"Or you might have had a reason to stay."

"Maybe," Sanji felt Zoro's fingers sift through his hair. "But I have no regrets about the path my life has taken."

The recognisable creak of the trapdoor to the men's living quarters split the moment and sent them scrabbling for clothes for the second time that evening. Sanji couldn't get his favourite belt to buckle and in a panic tossed it overboard as Usopp padded up the stairs to join them and ask them sleepily why they constantly seemed to come to bed late.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Abstinence doesn't work**

There were few things in life that gave Zoro greater contentment than a nap on a fine summer's day. He had tucked himself away up the crow's nest, apart from the bustle and traffic of the rest of the crew so that it was less likely he would get walked over, trodden on or accidentally bowled overboard. These things were still fairly probable – Zoro was a realist at heart – but at least he could rest a little easier.

He liked the perspective a little space from the others brought him, drifting in and out of sleep to the sounds of life aboard the Merry. Luffy's raucous laughter sounded gentler, more distant; Chopper's shrieks and exclamations calmer when carried on the wind. Occasionally a delicate breeze would trip over the edge of the crow's nest, stirring the edges of his shirt and bringing a welcome cool to his sun-warmed skin where it was exposed. Sleep coaxed him calmly away from the waking world.

A rustle of papers below had him wide awake again.

"Anything interesting?" Usopp's voice.

"Inflation is set to rise by naught-point-two percent." Nami. "Can you believe it? Naught-point-_two. _That's government robbery."

"I'll have to be more careful using expensive reagents then, if that's how it is."

"I can't believe how much you spend on that stuff anyway, when all you do is make a mess."

"Oi, this isn't mess, it's...product development. Research. If I'm to be a Proud Man of the Sea I need to make the best incendiaries with the finest ingredients money can buy, otherwise what's the point?"

A pause.

"Hey, Usopp." There was a tone of uncertainty in Nami's voice that made Zoro raise his eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"I'm starting to burn, could you help me put some of this on?"

"Can't you do it yourself? I'm busy."

"There are parts I can't reach, moron."

The sound of Usopp sighing, then equipment clinking and boots scraping on the deck.

"Where?"

"There."

"Okay, done."

"You're not doing it right. You've actually got to _rub it in_, just smearing it all over the place won't work."

Another pause.

"I feel like this is something Sanji should be doing."

"Well he's not here right now, is he?"

Zoro fought back a strong urge to peek over the edge.

"Is it all rubbed in now?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I think it needs some more here."

"Right. Wait, why the hell am I doing this when you can reach well enough to point out where you want the damned cream?"

"Honestly, the way you're complaining anyone would think I'd asked you to rub suncream on a bristly pig."

"...I'm not...complaining..."

"...Good. If I move these straps out of the way maybe it'll be easier-"

Zoro made a sudden, loud announcement of his presence by pretending to wake, standing and yawning noisily, stretching skywards then rubbing his eyes like that was the best nap he'd ever had. He jumped down from the crow's nest and, paying no direct attention to the pirate thief and her masseur, made his way to join Luffy and Chopper on the main deck. Much as he was loathe to admit it Sanji was right; things happening between two nakama in a small space filled with lots of other nakama were bound to be obvious if you weren't careful about it.

After having almost been caught at it too many times, they had decided that it would be best not to do it again until they reached land in the hopes that any suspicions would be averted. The next port was three days away.

-b-

Zoro pushed his way into the galley. Sanji was at the sink, peeling vegetables. He stopped for a moment, shrugging his shoulders and craning his neck to relieve sore muscles. Zoro watched the cook's strong, broad back shifting beneath his shirt. He recognised that tension. He'd seen it often. Dealt with it often.

"There's no way you're going to make it." He grinned.

"The fuck are you talking about?" Sanji retorted over his shoulder with an accompanying black scowl.

"Three days without sex. You look like you're at your limit already. Not long 'til you start humping the furniture, I'd say."

"You know nothing, stupid shitty bastard. A true gentleman isn't so uncouth as to succumb so easily to brutish desires."

"And how would you know?"

Sanji turned with a face full of thunder, ready to unleash his wrath on the rude shit-swordsman, but the wind vanished from his squall as soon as he had a full, clear view of him. Zoro had been training, and training hard. He was dripping with sweat, half naked, face flushed from the heat, downing a glass of ice-cold water straight from the open fridge. Sanji turned back to his vegetables, trying desperately not to think of Zoro sweating up against him, of the bob in the man's throat as he swallowed, of the line of his jaw as his head tipped back. But it had been over a day since they'd last done anything, and he was already feeling the strain.

"Before we reach land, you're going to ask me to screw you, pervert-brow."

Sanji held his cool, just about. "Not a fucking chance. If anyone caves in it'll be you, _marimo_."

-b-

This was war, Sanji decided. The battle lines were being drawn out in the cool haze of the morning on the deck of the stern, where the swordsman was preparing to take to his training. Assaults came from all sides, with heavy casualties.

Zoro was training shirtless as usual, with his trousers lying low enough on his hips to display those two mind-tangling lines that ran down to his groin, showing just the smallest hint of dark curls. Today Zoro was going commando, and he was making sure Sanji knew it.

Sanji didn't want to think about how badly he wanted to push his hands down there. How easy it would be to run out there and surrender. That would mean a victory for Zoro, and that was unthinkable.

Sanji steeled himself and planned a counter-attack.

-b-

Zoro emerged from the hold with the freshness of the shower still clinging to him, residual droplets of water he hadn't caught with the towel hanging cool against his skin in the warmth of the afternoon sun. He was pleased with how things were going. Winding the cook up was probably cruel, but it was fun because it was so easy, and anyway it had been his idea so Zoro didn't have to feel at all guilty. He knew he'd have no problem abstaining; he had a much stronger will than the cook did.

He was greeted by the sight of Sanji bent almost fully in two right in front of him, trousers pulled so tight over his ass that almost nothing was left to the imagination. His eyes travelled down to the cook's inverted face. He was grinning.

"What are you doing."

Sanji shifted his weight, pivoting onto his hands and slowly, agonisingly lifting his legs as Zoro watched. The most impressive thing was that it appeared to take no effort at all. Sanji was still grinning up at him, showing no external indications of the sheer strength and muscular control required to perform the move.

"What? You're not the only one who needs training. I'm just making sure I remain _flexible_. Never know when I might next need to _contort_ myself."

Sanji was vertical now, a picture of precision. Then his legs parted until he formed a perfect 'T'. Without meaning to, Zoro thought about certain alternative uses for that position, and found himself staring directly at Sanji's groin.

The cook pushed himself off the floor from his fingertips and flipped a forceful kick in mid-air, landing expertly on his feet. He straightened up and adjusted his tie, then lit a cigarette. He looked over at Zoro, announcing to no-one in particular, "The power of the thrust lies entirely in the hips." Then he strutted away.

"I think I forgot something." Zoro muttered, disappearing back into the hold.

Luffy had been standing right beside them, watching their entire conversation, head cocked innocently to one side as though he suspected there might be some sub-context to their discourse, he just couldn't fathom it.

-b-

Sanji looked down at the cigarette between his fingers and thought, watching the dwindling sun disappear slowly behind the horizon. It had certainly been a trying day, and there were two more still to go. He smiled to himself, remembering Zoro's face earlier as his smug attitude had drained away along with the colour from his cheeks.

"Ready to give up yet?" Zoro said, interrupting his internal victory dance and joining him at the stern.

Sanji watched him move. "Not fucking likely." He mocked, with an overly-enthusiastic splutter of laughter. He paused for a moment, then added, "You?"

"You wish."

"Right. What the hell do you want then?"

"Just to do this." Zoro turned to him, pulling the cigarette from his mouth.

"Oi, what are you-"

Zoro slid the cigarette between his own lips and Sanji watched, stunned as the swordsman took a drag, embers flaring against the darkening sky. Only into the mouth, but still...Then Sanji felt Zoro's hand at the back of his neck, sliding up into his hair, bringing him close enough to kiss. Sanji opened his lips instinctively to his own irritation, but Zoro didn't quite meet them. Instead, he exhaled gently, and Sanji inhaled.

An almost-kiss was, at this point, far worse than a proper kiss could ever have been. If short-circuiting Sanji's mind was what Zoro had intended with this, he had to confess it had been utterly successful. He blew out a puff of smoke.

From the victorious look on the swordsman's face, Sanji could see he knew it.

Zoro replaced the cigarette at the corner of Sanji's mouth. The cook only just had enough self-awareness at that point to bite down on in before it fell straight out again. "See ya." Zoro told him.

This time it was Zoro who strutted away, leaving Sanji to his own devices.

-b-

Sanji decided the day wasn't won yet, not by a long-shot. He climbed the rigging to the crow's nest, hands shaking from tension, eager to diffuse the fire in his groin but equally eager for revenge. Zoro was on watch, as he'd known he'd be.

Sanji said nothing as he dropped himself to the floor opposite Zoro, shifting around until he was comfortable, and beginning to undo his zip.

"Uh, what are you doing,"

"What?" Sanji spat, hands still creeping down. "It's not my fault you're in the place I prefer to do it. Leave if you're not comfortable, but I'm doing it here either way."

"Fine, whatever." Zoro muttered, turning away and leaning over the edge of the crow's nest. Instead of listening and watching intently for obstacles at sea, Zoro found himself listening intently to what Sanji was doing behind him. The rhythm of fabric against fabric. Sanji's shoes grating over the wood as he spread his legs wider. The quickening of breath in the cook's throat.

Eventually Zoro had to look. And when he did, it was almost enough to make him forget everything and give in. Almost enough.

Sanji's eyes were screwed tightly shut, curled brows knitted above them. His mouth hung open slightly, the utterly irresistible lips around it full and heavy with want, moving gently with each breath as though he was speaking. He'd pushed his trousers off to his thighs, one hand running mercilessly over his cock, the other toying behind his balls.

Sanji bit his lip and adjusted his shoulder, and Zoro knew what was coming next. He couldn't see it since the trousers blocked his view, but he was certain from the expressions playing over the cook's face. Sanji's legs spread wider still. First one finger, then two.

"I'm pretty sure this defeats the entire purpose of what we were trying to achieve by not doing it for a while." Zoro told him, not taking his eyes away from what he could imagine was happening behind the cook's trouser-screen.

Sanji ignored him altogether, head tilting back as he pushed his fingers in deeper.

"What...what are you thinking about?"

"None of your fucking business." Sanji growled through gritted teeth. Zoro forced himself to look away, out over the sea. "Zoro..."

Zoro turned back around. The cook was biting down hard on his bottom lip. He hadn't called Zoro's name out to get his attention. He'd called it out for an altogether different reason.

Sanji's cool blue eyes opened and met his gaze.

"What's that look for? You want to give in and blow me?"

_ yes_

"Not a chance."

"Fine." Sanji's eyes closed again.

Zoro watched him come, ejaculate coating his hand in hot spurts, and kicked himself for not being a part of it. He had to admit that watching was certainly fun, though.

Sanji grinned at him, panting and sweating.

Zoro kept still, afraid that if he made any kind of motion at all there would be no stopping him until he was inside Sanji.

Once the cook had left it took him no time at all to reach his own climax. He conceded that he was probably not the victor of Day One.

-b-

The lunch spread had been beautifully impressive, right up until Luffy had gotten within a few inches of it. After that the table looked like it had been subjected to some sort of rapidly expanding food-consuming detonation, the radius of cleared plates surrounding their bottomless captain ever increasing.

Zoro lifted his plate out of the way of Luffy's grasping hand and sighed. The cook had already decided to quit to furore and was over on the other side of the galley, washing up. Zoro looked around. Everyone was engrossed in the ongoing battle for survival of the fittest. He finished his last mouthful and stood silently, walking over to where Sanji was standing.

He stood close; closer than they'd ever usually get to one-another in the company of the rest of the crew, and reached around the side of the cook to drop his plate into the hot, foamy water. There was just time enough to slide his fingers discretely between Sanji's, hidden by the water level. To his surprise, the cook let him do it. He stroked slowly over Sanji's hand until his fingers broke the surface then turned away, blowing gently in the man's ear as he went.

Then he dried his hand on his shirt, returned to the table as though nothing had happened, and watched the hapless cook try desperately to distract himself.

In Sanji's mind, a single thought was stuck on repeat.

_I just have to make it to tomorrow I just have to make it to tomorrow I just have to make it to tomorrow_

-b-

Zoro was engrossed in his usual afternoon training routine as Sanji sloped onto the deck of the stern. He stood for a little while, smoking and watching the man move, admiring his hard body tensing and relaxing. Zoro was ignoring him, but Sanji knew he was aware of his presence.

"You know," He said.

"What, can't you see I'm busy here?"

"I could do it right now."

"What, shit-cook?"

"Pull your trousers down, bend you over and fuck you raw. Right there, against the bannister. Slow at first, then-" he paused to let out a breath of tangling smoke, "faster, keeping you going til it feels like your balls are up in your gut and then make you come so hard you forget your own name."

Zoro's weights had stopped moving.

"All you have to do is ask for it."

Zoro turned to look at him over his shoulder. His expression was inscrutable. Sanji grinned at him, but the grin faded as Zoro came closer. They were almost touching; Zoro's hot, naked chest so close to Sanji's crisp white shirt. Just an inch nearer and their lips would meet. Sanji could taste his kiss already. Zoro's lips opened.

"No, all you have to do is start it," he said, "and I'll finish it."

Sanji decided he might just do that after all.

_"ALL HANDS!" _Someone shrieked. Nami. The sound was chilling. Both of them bounded down to the main deck, eyes widening as they saw what had caused it.

Massive, ominous black clouds obscured the horizon, lightening lancing down from sky to sea. Sanji looked back to behind the ship. In that direction, there was no indication of the storm whatsoever.

The wind started to get up, whipping the sail and rising the waves against the bough.

"Captain-san come away from there!" Robin shouted. Luffy shot her a petulant look but complied all the same, relieving his Special Seat.

"Well don't just _stand_ there like idiots," Nami shouted at them, "hoist the damn sail!"

"Nami, can't we just go around it?" Usopp shouted over the gathering noise. Rolling thunder split the heavens and Chopper dove to hide the wrong way behind Robin's legs as she fought to hold the rudder steady.

"No, we have to go through it," She said, staring skyward. "It's too big to go around."

Heavy rain started to fall, pummelling the deck with hard slaps and making it slippery underfoot. Sanji finished tying off the main sail and looked out at the swirling storm. Then he saw it coming, and felt as though something had wrenched his innards out.

"_EVERYBODY HOLD ON TO SOMETHING!_" He screamed, pointing to port.

"Oh fu-" Nami uttered, reaching for the nearest thing and clinging to it for dear life.

The wave hit the little ship like a bomb had exploded beneath them, sending shuddering noise through the timbers which reverberated through every hold and screw and joint. The crew held on as water breached the sides and flooded the deck, willing Merry to hold out against the violent swell.

It carried them in its grip for what felt like an age, throwing them about like a spoilt child would a least-favourite toy, momentum eventually slowing until all was calm again. The sun shone through, and the Going Merry sailed on as though nothing had ever happened.

"That was fun! Let's do it again!" Luffy proclaimed.

Sanji looked down to the deck and felt more relieved than he thought he should have been to see the shitty marimo wringing his haramaki out over the side of the ship.

"Oi, Nami, could you...I can't...breathe..."

Nami released her grip on the thing she'd been clinging to. "Sorry Usopp."

The wave had carried them far from the storm, which was now retreating darkly into the distance.

"Nami-san! You're amazing! You found us a way round it after all!" Sanji cooed, jumping down from the mast.

Nami was staring at the log pose. "I _told_ you, it was too big to go around. We're well off-course now."

"Exactly _how_ off-course?" Zoro asked.

"Five days."

Something in the expressions of Zoro and Sanji gave Nami the distinct impression she'd somehow just broken them both with two small words.

A couple of hours later and they were still melancholy.

Luffy pulled on Zoro's cheeks. "Are you two sea-sick or something? You're no fun at all."


	12. Chapter 12

**12(a). Good things come to those who wait...**

Land. Sweet, merciful land. Where there was land, there would be a port. Where there was a port, there would be hotels. Where there were hotels, there could be sex. Hot, hard, raucous, _bonegrinding _sex. He didn't know how, but they'd made it.

Eight.

Days.

They were lucky (or unlucky, depending on your viewpoint) that they were both so stubborn in the face of competition. Not that he hadn't wanted to give in. Not that he hadn't wanted every single night to throw in the towel, to bite down on his pride and beg Zoro to tear his clothes from his body and fuck him roughly against the wall, over the galley table, work top or any other available surface...

Sanji stood at the bow of the ship beside Luffy's special seat, hands gripping the bannister, nails digging further into the painted wood with each pace of distance closed. He willed the ship to go faster, begged internally for the wind to catch Merry's sails and bear them into port, but they just sauntered steadily onwards, inch-by-excruciating-inch.

He stole a glance across at Zoro who was also staring straight ahead, fixated on their destination with unblinking determination, hands secured safely in his pockets.

Sitting cluelessly on the ram's head, Luffy crossed and un-crossed and re-crossed his legs, wriggling and jigging about with excitement. He grabbed his heels and rocked back slightly, grinning widely.

"Hey Zoro, Sanji, when we get there, let's have an adventure!"

"No." They both answered simultaneously.

Luffy pouted. "Why not?"

"Can't do that."

"Eehhh?"

"Important things to do. Boring things."

"So stingy.."

Luffy gave up on them and bounded off to the main deck. Sanji was dully aware of the argument behind them as their captain tried his best to convince Nami, Usopp and Chopper that running off without knowing where they were going would be the most fun for everyone.

The shoreline was closing in, he was sure of it.

He and Zoro stood still and stiff as though they had been carved as part the ship. The main sail flapped tight in the wind behind them, pushing them that little bit closer to port. Everyone else was gathering themselves together, fretting about what they might need or what they should leave behind, making contingency plans in case they forgot something important. The both of them were already prepared to disembark, and had been for days on the off-chance that they made port earlier than expected. But as was typical of the brilliant Nami-san, they had arrived exactly on time.

They were both ready to go. All they needed now was-

The ship slid gently to a halt against the pontoon, the wood of Merry's hull knocking politely on the wood of the dock.

Land-ho.

They both turned at the same time to address their nakama, blurting out their entirely made-up intentions for land-based activities, speaking over one-another so that neither was heard properly anyway, and then, ignoring the confused, quizzical and knowing looks they received, leapt from the ship and shot away towards the town as though someone had lit their feet on fire.

-b-

Sanji opened the door without knocking first; in retrospect that had been a recipe for disaster but he'd been so fixated on who he wanted to walk in on that the thought of anyone else being in the room on the other side of it hadn't even featured in his mind.

Zoro scolded him for that very thing, but Sanji barely even heard him. He watched Zoro's lips move, saw his jaw working and his expression changing to the picture of annoyance but said nothing. Zoro began to unbutton his trousers, still grumbling away, oblivious. Sanji yanked off his tie in one smooth move, piquing Zoro's interest. He looked over, leaving the trousers hanging loosely on his hips, watching him carefully.

The cook crossed the room quickly, stepping out of his shoes as he went. Eight days without proper physical contact. It was enough to break any normal man.

As soon as he was in range, Zoro caught him by the shirt and pulled him into a hard, rough kiss. It wasn't until that moment that Sanji realised just how badly he'd been left wanting. Wanting not only for sex, not only for that electric climax and shuddering release, but also for Zoro's touch, his smell, the feeling that came from being close to him. Sanji's hands clenched into tight fists in Zoro's shirt and haramaki. They were warm from his body.

Zoro was already working on Sanji's shirt buttons, fumbling partly because of the heat of their kiss and partly in his haste to get them undone. There was quick succession of loud popping noises as Zoro tore Sanji's shirt open across his chest.

Sanji stared down open-mouthed at where his nice pearly buttons used to be. "What the fuck-!"

Zoro was too impatient to allow him get mad. "Just get another shirt, dumbass." He said, distracting Sanji with hungry lips. It worked.

"People will start to notice if I change shirts all the time."

Sanji got the distinct impression that Zoro couldn't care less as the swordsman yanked the ruined shirt off him. Then Zoro's lips were all over him. At his mouth, at his neck; head dipping down and tongue teasing his erect nipples – it made Sanji's cock ache so bad he was almost losing it already. Zoro's palm hard against his crotch made him ignite.

He grabbed Zoro's shirt and pulled it off him in one smooth movement as Zoro pushed off his trousers and haramaki. Sanji unbuttoned his own trousers as Zoro's hands rested impatiently on his hips to dispense of them.

They locked gazes, Zoro's hands pressed firmly against Sanji's back, one hand slipping down under his waist band so that a finger slid provocatively between his ass cheeks. Sanji upped the ante by gripping Zoro's hips and grinding their erections together. Zoro's rebuttal was to lick slowly under Sanji's upper lip in a way that made him shiver.

Still they were competing. Still neither wanted to lose to the other.

"Draw?" Zoro asked Sanji's lips.

"Yeah." They replied.

Sanji shoved Zoro onto the bed so hard it almost broke, and climbed on top of him, pinning him and kissing him as Zoro's hands ran eagerly over his back. Sanji distracted himself from Zoro's hot tongue just long enough to reach down and attempt to free himself from his trousers. They were glued to him from sweat and anticipation, and wouldn't come off. He writhed in frustration against Zoro, then stopped abruptly. His forehead hit the swordsman's chest.

"Aw, fuck." He muttered.

Zoro looked down at him with a puzzled expression and then understood. He laughed; a gentle, amused laugh of understanding rather than the mockery Sanji might have expected for ejaculating prematurely.

He took a long moment to clear his head then slipped off the bed, kneeling between Zoro's legs. Zoro was watching him carefully, propped up on his elbows. Sanji kept his gaze, putting his forefinger and thumb to the base of Zoro's cock and pulling down so that the skin pulled taut over it. He pulled down just a little further, tugging the head and watched as pre-come pooled seductively at his slit.

Zoro was blushing hard and watching him intently, wanting, _willing_ Sanji to give him head but refusing to ask for it outright. Part of Sanji wanted him to. He wanted Zoro's hands on him, pushing him down, demanding orgasm in the same way Sanji did so often. But Zoro just lay there patiently, holding back, unwilling to force Sanji to do something he might not be in the mood for. Damn considerate asshole.

He kissed the base of Zoro's cock, sliding his fingertips feather-light up the shaft until he reached the head. He wet his fingers with pre-come and pulled them away, admiring the string of viscous fluid that hung between them and Zoro's tight erection. He slipped them between his lips and sucked.

However he looked at it, however he thought about it, he wanted Zoro's cock in his mouth.

The swordsman uttered an unrestrained groan as Sanji's lips passed down over him. His hands went to his groin instinctively, but he regained control of himself before they reached Sanji and he rested them on his hips instead. Zoro's fingertips lay either side of Sanji's chin.

Sanji worked him hard; hand pumping, lips and tongue toying with his tip and head, waiting for orgasm to hit. He couldn't see Zoro's face, only the line of his jaw and the rapid pace of breath in his chest and stomach. He sucked hard and Zoro's back arched, hands slipping towards him, taste changing as he neared climax.

The side of one finger graced Sanji's cheek; an almost shy gesture. Sanji willed him onwards, pushing Zoro's head up against the roof of his mouth, pushing deeper down over him, anything to make the swordsman lose control.

Zoro was practically moaning with each bob of Sanji's head. Sanji increased pace and Zoro let out a noise made of want and frustration, hot palms sliding against the cook's cheeks. More of that taste. He knew Zoro was close.

Sanji pulled his lips and tongue away suddenly, leaving Zoro tight and hard and desperate for release. Zoro grunted through gritted teeth, and Sanji finally got what he wanted. Zoro's fingers slid into his hair, holding him down, preventing his escape. He could feel the pulse in his own hard cock at Zoro not asking him, not letting him figure it out on his own, but _telling _him what he wanted. _Demanding_ it. He returned to the task with such frantic abandon that Zoro lifted his head to look, groin and thighs jerking suddenly as noisy climax hit him a little sooner than he was expecting.

Sanji removed his lips from Zoro's relaxing cock, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb and re-living it, growing harder still from the exhausted, relieved look in Zoro's eyes. Hot, messy and incredible.

After that, Sanji badly needed to fuck him. He stood and pushed off his trousers at long last, erection wet from a mixture of previous ejaculate and new arousal. As soon as he got a knee onto the bed Zoro pulled him down and kissed him hard, fingers clenching in his hair and thighs spreading eagerly around him.

"The first time didn't count." He managed, between strokes of Zoro's tongue across his own.

"Not my fault you can't hold it togeth-_ah!_"

He was pushing in. Finally pushing in after days and days of thinking about it, waking up in the hammock in a hot sweat andwith a raging erection from dreaming about it, being endlessly and irritatingly distracted by his body's almost overwhelming demand for it...but his memories, his fantasies of it were nothing but grainy black-and-white polaroids of how it really felt. Zoro was hot and tight and _holy-fuck-amazing_ inside. From the expression on the swordsman's face, Zoro wanted Sanji in as much as he did.

"Shit, don't squeeze so hard, you're too tight..."

Zoro was tense all over. Then Sanji felt him gain some control as everything slowly relaxed. He slid inside and nearly came again.

"I'm almost in," He managed. It took all his self-control not to thrust forward and climax.

Zoro nipped at his lower lip and brought him back to reality. The swordsman was wearing his favourite grin. "Feel good?"

"Fuck you."

"You are."

Sanji slammed all the way in, and Zoro's grin dissolved into something approaching a wanton gaze. He wasn't entirely sure which one of them that thrust had been for.

Zoro's fingernails grazed impatiently down Sanji's back to his ass. He bared his teeth against Sanji's kiss. "Fucking _move, _cook," He warned, bucking his hips and making Sanji jolt.

It was one of the rare occasions when he was more than happy to do something Zoro asked him for. He watched himself sliding in and out, watched Zoro's erection fill again as the man all but clawed at him for more. Then he looked up.

Sanji suddenly felt like an idiot for squandering so many opportunities to see Zoro wearing the expression he had right now. He couldn't describe it, but he knew and understood the carnal feeling that look shot through his veins from seeing it. It made him a idiot for every moment Zoro wasn't making that face, every second they'd been bickering rather than fucking, every iota of self-consciousness he'd had when he'd suggested they cool it for a while.

_Fuck, I missed you._

It was only when Zoro smirked up at him that he realised he'd said it out loud.

"Likewise." The swordsman replied.

Sanji bit down on his bottom lip, flicking his hips so that he didn't drive as deep. It didn't ease the pleasure as much as he'd hoped. "I can't hold out much longer."

"Come, I don't care."

Sanji rocked hard into Zoro, hands grasping at the bedsheets and fingers tightening in Zoro's hair as he felt his whole body tense and shudder through release. After so long abstaining, it was a little overwhelming. He put his cheek to Zoro's chest, feeling the breath fill and empty again beneath him.

He was oddly pleased at how sweaty they'd made one-another. The swordsman's hard erection prodding his stomach reminded him that they weren't quite done yet.

He used his last ounce of strength to prop himself up and unpick himself from Zoro's heavy limbs. He stood and backed slowly towards the shower room. Zoro took the hint and sprang up, kissing him backwards through the doorway.


	13. Chapter 13

**12(b) Don't ask the question if you don't want to know the answer**

Warm. That was about as far as Sanji could be bothered to think. His ass was warmer than anywhere else. Now that he paid it more attention, his leg was warm too. He sighed, chest moving softly against the bed covers, and wondered what the world would look like outside the pink screen of his closed eyelids.

There would be the bed. He knew that was there; he was on it, after all. An expanse of off-white sheets – whether they had been that colour to begin with, he wasn't certain – roughed up where they'd just had sex. The time before last. There would be disturbances in the covers where his hands had clenched into them beside Zoro. He tightened his fingers in them now, remembering it. Remembering the man who'd been beneath him.

Beyond the bed there would probably be the rest of the room. For all he knew right now it could have disappeared completely without him being aware of it, and he could be adrift in some other place, outside of time and space. Except for the warmth on his thigh and buttocks, which meant that the afternoon sun was still there, and that meant the rest of the world had to be there, too. Full of noise and urgency and errands and other things that didn't matter right now.

Somewhere in that world, there was Zoro.

Sanji felt the bed move around him, first dipping one side and then the other as the swordsman climbed onto the bed over the top of him. His skin cooled slightly where the sun had been. He lay there, still, keeping his eyes closed, expression unchanging even though he knew Zoro would be looking at his face.

He felt Zoro's weight shift, then felt his lips at the base of his spine. Zoro moved slowly up over him, pressing gentle kisses to his back. Without knowing him in the way he did, Sanji would never have imagined him to be capable of such tenderness. Knowing Zoro in the way he did, it wasn't all that surprising.

Zoro tripped some nerve endings and Sanji shuddered. That one place along his spine always got the same reaction, and he knew that was why Zoro had paid it particular attention. Lips became tongue. Sanji refused to react further, keeping his eyes tight shut.

"Oi, stop that." He muttered into the pillow.

Tongue became teeth, still gentle but more determined, and Sanji shuddered again as hot sensations trickled out from that place. He hated it when Zoro had such an audible grin.

"You're so sensitive."

"Fuck off, I'm not. And get the hell offa me."

"Make me, shithead."

Sanji didn't pause for breath to take up the challenge. He thrust down with his hands and knees, raising his body and knocking the wind out of Zoro with a flat 'oof'. The moment of uncertainty that followed it was all he needed to right himself onto his knees. He whirled around, coming face to face with his opponent.

By this time Zoro had regained his focus and was already reaching for Sanji's arms. Sanji's hands jarred against his shoulders but Zoro's reach was longer, his fingers pressing easily into pressure points along Sanji's biceps and diffusing their strength. Sanji's arms folded involuntarily and he took the opportunity to thrust outwards to the sides, knocking Zoro's hands off him. Zoro leaned closer, grinning. It was only then that Sanji realised he was also smiling, and tried his best to wipe it from his face without success.

Both naked, both kneeling up, poised to defend or strike at any moment, grinning like idiots. Sanji decided this was easily the most ridiculous situation he'd ever been in. He also decided he didn't care, and focussed his attention on getting one over on Zoro.

"Oh, you really want to go?"

Zoro raised an eyebrow."Sure."

"There's no way I'll lose to you."

"You don't get a choice."

Zoro went for him, apparently expecting to be able to bowl Sanji over backwards with little resistance. But Sanji was ready and caught him by the hands, struggling against the swordsman's sheer strength.

This was a fight not best pitched to his abilities. They were kneeling, which meant that in order to win he'd have to be creative in using his legs and core strength. Zoro already had him on upper body strength alone, and he was starting to get pushed backwards.

He flexed his feet against the bed, transferring the thrust from his thighs up into his hips, bringing their hands lower so that it wasn't as easy for Zoro. Sanji watched him adjust, every bit as determined not to lose as Sanji was, muscles tight and working in his neck, chest and shoulders as he tried to resist the change in position.

Their eyes met, and Sanji felt his cheeks flush for some reason. Their grips tightened, fingers interlocking, squeezing together.

Then Zoro looked down.

"Wow, this really does get you off."

"Shut up! And quit staring!"

Zoro used the break in Sanji's concentration like any expert fighter would, and brought him down, pinning him to the bed.

"You lose, pervert-cook."

Sanji curled his lip at his assailant.

"But the difference between beating you on the ship and beating you here is that at least here I can do this;" Zoro ground slowly against Sanji's groin.

Zoro was insinuating that Sanji's losing was a regular occurrence, but he was too pre-occupied to retort. Zoro's ass was pressed down against the tip of his erection, and that meant there wasn't much room in his mind for anything else.

He watched as Zoro eased himself on, feeling that now-familiar heat and tightness take him whole. It struck him as an odd time to realise it, but he knew Zoro very intimately indeed. He could predict the point at which it would feel so damn good he wouldn't care if he died at that precise moment; it made him wet just to think about it. He was glad Zoro had no idea of the amount of times he'd gotten hard inappropriately from remembering it.

Zoro rode him slowly, raising up using his thighs as well as his hips so Sanji could see himself disappear inside. Sanji's hands drifted up Zoro's legs to his stomach, riding the firm muscle that moved beneath. Zoro was dripping already. Sanji saw an opportunity.

"You're so easy to please," He said, rubbing his thumb over Zoro's tip.

"Only by you." Zoro shot back.

Sanji just stared at him. He'd delivered it like an insult, but it hadn't been one. Not in word, and not in meaning. A reflex, perhaps, from all their time spent goading one-another. He watched Zoro's face carefully, searching for clues as to what the hell he'd meant by that throw-away line, but found nothing beyond the arched eyebrows, tightly shut eyes and dropping jaw of someone who was enjoying themselves.

Zoro slowed his movements, controlling his breath and reigning himself in. His fingertips pressed hard into Sanji's stomach from the frustration of it. Sanji thrust up into him and Zoro gasped, eyes snapping open from the sudden, unexpected pleasure. Sanji gripped the swordsman's hips tight, deciding there was no way he was content to leave it at that after such a reaction, and thrust again.

Zoro's hands joined his, unsure whether to stop or encourage him.

"Sanji don't,"

_Why, because it feels good? Because you're close and I'll tip you over? Because you're about to come all over me?_

Sanji moved again, harder, slapping against the man above him and lifting them both from the complaining bed, forcing a curtailed 'fuck' from Zoro.

_ Because I'm the only one who could please you like this?_

He started in earnest, hips driving him in and out of Zoro, trying his best to ignore the searing pleasure aching along his cock and give his full attention to Zoro's expressions. The swordsman's head tipped back, and Sanji knew he was close.

"Cook, _stop_," Almost pleading. Sanji forced Zoro's hips to an angle he knew from experience would make him hit the right spot. Zoro cried out from it; a sound that anyone else might have confused for pain, but Sanji knew him better than that, could hear the ecstasy hidden on the fringes of that noise. Zoro's hands gripped his tight, trying to pull them free so he could lean away from the pleasure Sanji was forcing him to take. Sanji wasn't having any of it.

It was a strange feeling, realising that at that moment, and indeed the long moments before and after it, Zoro's orgasm meant more to him than his own. He'd noticed a long time ago that it gave him a certain satisfaction, but never paid it particular attention. And yet there was definitely something about it. Getting off was easy. Being able to get someone else off was a different matter altogether.

And if he was honest, there was something about the fact that it was Zoro; Zoro who was above him or below him, willing and responsive; Zoro who was letting his guard down and displaying vulnerability in his arousal; Zoro with his fearsome resolve and stoic determination, driven to the point of orgasm and beyond merely by Sanji's touch and penetration.

He'd thought often about making girls come, about how they would feel, trembling coquettishly around his cock, resigned and grateful for what he'd given them. Although he'd never experienced it properly, in that moment of brutal honesty he admitted that he didn't expect it could ever feel as good as this.

He tilted his hips beneath Zoro, angling them to decrease his depth, toying with him, keeping him on the brink and watching his facial contortions. Zoro was very attractive indeed. Hell, he'd admit it – Zoro was fucking hot. And even though he was inside, even though he was screwing Zoro right now, Sanji wanted him so bad he could hardly stand it.

_I don't need to think about what this means, right? He likes it, I like it, we both do it because it feels good. It's just that sometimes I feel like I want it, that I like it, that I _need _it more than I probably should. _

_ Because it's not just sex I want. It's him. _

He flicked his hips back to where they were.

"Ah! Sanji-"

_Why the hell do I want you so bad?_

"Stop,"

_Why am I thinking about you all the fucking time?_

"Fuck! Stop! Stop or I'm gonna come,"

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

"I'm gonna come, Sanji I'm gonna come,"

_And why the fuck don't I give a shit in the slightest?_

Sanji watched Zoro lance into orgasm as he fucked him through it, reaching the brink himself.

_Whatever. I'll figure it out. I should really shut up and enjoy myself here, seeing as this thing with him will probably turn out to be the best sex of my life..._

When Sanji came around again, he realised that Zoro was showing all the external signs of orgasm, except for one. A rather important one.

"You didn't come."

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"You didn't come. Nothing came out."

"Trust me, I came."

"And you're still hard. And wet."

"_Fuck_, don't touch."

"So?"

"'So' what?"

"You came, but you didn't...come...so what the hell was that?"

"Maybe," Zoro drifted off. Sanji gripped his cock and brought him back.

"'Maybe' what? Did you come or didn't you?"

"The book mentioned something."

"The book? The book that gave you the idea for those pervert-pills? _That_ book?"

"_Shuddup,_ bastard...it said that heavy stimulation inside and none outside can result in a 'dry orgasm'."

"I see. Anything else you want to share?"

"Dunno...I don't really think about it til it's relevant, so,"

"You're useless."

Zoro squeezed around Sanji's relaxing cock, making the cook shudder and squirm with sensitivity. "_Hah_?" He said, suddenly full of fight again.


	14. Chapter 14

**12(c) Communication is key**

"Well, how did it feel?"

"How the hell do you think it felt?"

"What, do you think I'm asking for the fun of it? I _mean_, how does it compare to, yanno, _normal._"

"The release is different. But it feels the same. I dunno. Still good. What, you don't believe me?"

"You're not making a lot of sense."

"See, there's your proof of it." Zoro said, lifting himself from Sanji's groin. He was about to lay beside him when he noticed Sanji's curious expression. "What?"

"Zoro...look, I know we'd..._agreed_...and all, that when we were on land _I'd_ fuck _you-_"

"Same difference, really."

"-but I wonder..maybe, if..."

"You want to switch?"

"Yeah,"

Zoro manoeuvred Sanji onto his hands and knees, and started to stretch him gently, working him effortlessly back to full arousal with slicked fingers. Sanji wondered whether he'd actually missed the sensation; the feeling of Zoro filling him. His suspicions were confirmed as Zoro's still-hard cock slid into him.

Heavy stimulation inside, none outside. Heavy stimulation inside, none outside. Sanji kept repeating it inside his mind, hoping it would help him control himself. He wanted to know what it felt like; how it was different and if it was worth repeating.

Zoro gripped Sanji's hips with both hands, fingers pressing on the lines down to his groin, holding him still and steady as the fuck became rougher.

Sanji pictured Zoro driving in and out of his ass, biting his lip as he watched himself disappear, face reddening as he reached his limit. Sanji wanted to touch. Zoro was rubbing him just right, making him need to hold his cock, making him want to jerk off until he came as hard and messy as possible. The urge was overwhelming, and he reached down.

Zoro caught his hands before he could, holding Sanji's arms back and hoisting his upper body into a more raised position. Zoro's grip was fierce, and Sanji couldn't escape from it. Nor could he escape from the inevitable climax growing and pooling in his groin and thighs. All he could do was kneel there and take it, grunting and moaning like he'd wanted to for so long, finally free of the restraints brought on by living with other people.

Zoro was slamming into him now, holding his wrists as he struggled to get free, looking down at his desperate, dripping erection. The state he was in, there was no way he wouldn't ejaculate.

"Do you feel it?" Zoro asked him, breath hard in his chest.

Sanji balked slightly, then remembered they could both say what they damn well wanted now.

"Yeah I feel it."

"Shit, you're tight."

"Get a smaller cock." Sanji wanted to raise his voice, wanted to shout out like Zoro did, all noise and release. "Fuck, you're driving me crazy."

"You want to come?"

"Yes I want to fucking come you _fucking moron_,"

Zoro thrust faster, forcing Sanji's expression into what felt like that odd look people got when they were about to sneeze. He could already feel the unravelling sensation that came from being kept on the very brink of orgasm. Zoro pulled aggressively on his wrists, forcing him almost upright. The hot breath in his ear unbalanced him in the right direction over that lip, and his cock pulsed in preparation.

"I ever tell you you're a damn good fuck, cook?"

Zoro's words sent him reeling far beyond where he'd been about to fall. He could feel the pulse and rhythm of his climax throughout his whole body, aware of almost nothing past the hot, thrusting sensation of Zoro's cock and the mind-collapsing pleasure it was sending through him.

And then it was over, but Zoro's words still stuck in his mind like a hot poker.

He looked down. No ejaculate.

_Huh, no kidding._

Having given him a moment to recover, Zoro began again in earnest. He held Sanji close, arms wrapped around him and holding him up; hot and sweaty against him. Sanji shuddered as Zoro's lips and teeth worked the crook of his neck.

"I'm going to come...I'm going to come inside you..."

Sanji's fingers worked into Zoro's hair, clenching and tugging stiffly. He let his head fall back against Zoro's shoulder.

"Fuck me."

There was no way Zoro could hold out against that.

"You believe me now?" He said, panting for breath.

"Yeah, I guess." Sanji conceded, eyes shut as he fell forwards onto the bed.

-b-

"You're humming that song again. Just pointing it out. I think I know it off by heart now..."

-b-

"Ok, how about: you get it in my mouth, you can ask."

"Do we have to play with peanuts? There are other things I can think of...something that sounds a lot like 'peanuts', actually."

"You need to clean out your mind. It's worse than a tramp's armpit."

"Like you're one to talk."

"Just throw the damn nut if you want to ask the question."

"Right. Ready?"

"Ready."

"At least open your mouth wider than that!"

"What? That's as wide as it goes."

"Bullshit."

"I am but a delicate flower, don't expect me to be able to drop my jaw like a whore. Why are you laughing?"

"I didn't hear anything past 'delicate flower'."

"Are you going to do it or what?"

"Fine. Stay like that. You know I'll get it in anyway. And if you fucking move, that means I automatically win."

"Like hell I'd agree to-"

"Throwing!..."

"What was that? That was the worst throw I've ever seen."

"Fuck off."

"Roronoa Zoro; overly-ambitious shit-swordsman, bastard, _ma-ri-mo_ – high bounty on his head and throws like a ten-year-old girl. Where the hell were you aiming? Over there isn't part of my mouth. It's not even anywhere near part of my mouth. I know you suffer from a poor sense of direction, but I'm _right here_, Zoro. Even you can't get lost from one side of the bed to the other."

"Shut the hell up, I've got another one."

"Now you're wasting our food."

"You want it so bad you go find it."

"No, _you_ go find it so I get an extra one from the population that hasn't gone on the floor. It's not _my_ fault we're eating bar peanuts for dinner."

"Like I said, this was all I could find."

"You could have gone, I don't know, _outside, _where the people who sell food are...Wait. Did you not go outside because you were you afraid you might get lost?"

"No."

"You were, weren't you? Afraid you'd get lost and not be able to find your way back."

"_NO._"

"You were the one who offered to go out and grab something. I guess ultimately it's my fault for expecting you to behave like a normal person."

"Whatever. Open wider this time."

"Don't think it'll help, judging by that last throw."

"That was a practice! Just fucking do it."

"Fine."

"Ok. Throwing."

"You really want to ask this question, don't you?"

"If your face is talking, I can't throw the nut. Do you want to eat or not?"

"Yes I want to eat. I want to eat filet mignon or duck a l'orange. I want to eat lobster or-"

"Well all we've got is peanuts, so suck it up. What's that look for?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

_ "Nothing_. I'm just thinking that maybe 'peanuts' isn't exactly _everything_ we've got. Going back to your earlier comment."

"I'm asking my question first. What are you-... it completely defeats the purpose if you eat it _from my hand_."

"Just ask me the damn question already. I'm hungry."

"Ok. If you could eat any Devil's Fruit, even the ones that are already taken, what would it be?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, I thought it was going to be something important. And besides, that's easy. I've already decided which one I want."

-b-

"You know, sometimes I wonder about you."

"What?"

"What kind of dumbass almost cuts off their own feet on purpose?"

"The kind of dumbass who can't see any other way out."

"What were you going to do, hobble around on your bloodied stumps and fight them?"

"Yeah. No. I didn't really think about it."

"That kinda sums you up."

"Fuck off, asshole."

"Whatever."

"Besides, along with this one, they're like a useful reminder."

"Of what? Be careful with knives?"

"That I'm not strong enough yet. Not strong enough to beat Mihawk; not enough resolve to sever my own feet on the first try. Every time I look down I know that I hesitated – something I can't afford to do ever again."

Sanji just looked at him. He had his hand wrapped over one of Zoro's ankles, warm palm effectively concealing the scar from him, naked thigh running against the side of Zoro's calf. "It's called self-preservation. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Zoro smiled at him. "When you're abandoned on a desolate island without food, then no. It's nothing to be ashamed of. But I chose this path and all the difficult things that come along with it; and if I have to, I'll fight to the death to continue on it."

"You're a dumbass." Sanji said, but his voice was small.

Zoro grinned at him. "You'd know better than anyone, _dumbass_. Now come lie down."

* * *

The world was warm. Soft yet firm at the same time against his cheek and his hands. There was a rhythm under whatever he was pressed against; a steady beat accompanied by a gentle flexing and relaxing that moved his head ever so slightly.

He adjusted the angle of his neck, pressing his face into it and breathing deeply. There was something about that scent that made him feel...secure.

He opened his eyes, and realised that the world was made of Zoro. They were pressed tightly against one another – Zoro's arm under his neck, other arm slung over Sanji's shoulder, hand in his hair and holding him in with his face tucked into Zoro's broad chest. He should have found it stifling, but it wasn't. He especially had no excuses seeing how his leg was hoisted up over Zoro's hip, holding them together groin-to-groin. Sanji blushed for some reason at the feel of Zoro's morning erection pressed against his own.

The swordsman was still fast asleep and snoring gently, moving the strands of Sanji's hair with each breath.

The cook un-hooked his leg from Zoro's waist carefully, listening for any changes in the man's sleeping state. He unpicked himself from the rest of Zoro's embrace with gentle hands, and slid off the side of the bed.

He found his clothes and got dressed quietly, still wearing Zoro's warmth on his skin. He watched Zoro sleeping as he pulled his tie into a neat knot. Arms still holding the air where Sanji had been. Hip still tilted slightly to allow for Sanji's leg. Still fantastically erect. Sanji felt a pang of guilt at leaving him like that. He wouldn't be there when Zoro woke. They'd never woken up together.

He fixed his collar and left, with one last glance at the back of his sleeping lover.

-b-

A new shirt had been first order, that was for sure. He'd been lucky he'd had his suit jacket to cover the fact that half the buttons on his old one were missing. He still owed Zoro for that, and he was planning to pay back with interest. The tailor had given him some interesting looks, then remarked about Sanji being lucky enough to have such nights of unbridled passion. Sanji had told him politely that the unbridled force had most certainly been stupidity rather than passion, to which the man had replied: "That's an ungentlemanly way to speak of a lady." He'd left it at that.

The market was thronging with buyers as Sanji picked his way through, following his nose to the most delicious-smelling stalls. It was still fairly early in the morning, and not everything good had already gone. He picked up some local delicacies and old favourites, stomach growling angrily for sustenance after the dismal 'meal' last night. He was still a bit amiss as to why it hadn't made him in the slightest bit mad.

Bag full of delicious and eagerly-awaited food, he returned to the hotel.

Zoro wasn't in bed. Nor was he anywhere in the room.

Then he appeared from the bathroom, and the flutter in Sanji's stomach died away.

Zoro was fresh from the shower, soaked and entirely naked, scrubbing at his hair with a small white towel.

"I wondered where you'd run off to. Nice shirt. That new?"

"You're a jerk."

"What did you get?"

"Huh?"

"To eat. What's in the bag? Smells good."

Sanji dropped the bag by the foot of the bed, along with his suit jacket. "I don't remember." He crossed the room to Zoro, who smirked and dropped his towel.

Sanji collected the fine rivulets on Zoro's neck and shoulder with his tongue, licking where they had pooled above his collar bone. His hands ran round to Zoro's back, bringing their bodies together.

"Oi, you're getting all wet."

Sanji ground against him. "Yeah, I know." He said, finding Zoro's lips.

Zoro undressed him again as his hands wandered over the swordsman's dripping body. There was some struggling with the buttons of his new shirt.

"Don't even fucking think about it." Sanji threatened. Zoro grinned against his lips, and removed his shirt gently, with patient fingers. Sanji felt Zoro's hands on his bare chest, running slowly over his torso and down to his trouser zip.

"How did you know I'd be coming back?"

Zoro just smiled at him as he dropped the cook's trousers and underwear to the floor. He took Sanji by the hand and led him back to bed.

Zoro's skin was cool against his own, still wet from the shower. His face was somehow expectant. Sanji kissed him. There was no urgency in either of them as Zoro's fingers slid gently into Sanji's hair, holding him down into the slow kiss. Sanji broke away and turned his attentions to other parts of Zoro, kissing and nibbling his ear, neck and chest, taking him all in piece by piece. He ran his hand up the outside of Zoro's thigh to his hips, over his stomach, and paused to look down at the man spread around him.

He watched as Zoro's hands coated him in lube, watched as they gripped him and positioned him and guided him in. Sanji kissed him again and began to push in gently, stopping when he was all the way, giving the kiss his full attention.

"Sanji," Zoro whispered against his lips, hands pressing at his back. Sanji began to move.

He pushed in and out slowly, watching Zoro's face as they moved together with the same rhythm. Zoro became breathless. "Sanji." It was just his name, but somehow Zoro said it like it carried extra meaning, as though it wasn't his name at all, but something deeper.

Sanji could tell Zoro was getting close. They knew each other well, in that respect.

The swordsman's head tipped back, plastered in that expression half-way between confusion and epiphany. Sanji kissed his neck as the fingers of one hand interlocked between Zoro's. The man was thrusting up against him, keeping the same force, the same slow rhythm that Sanji had until he finally came, achingly good whispered moans taking the place of his usual raucous cries.

This sex was different, and Sanji knew it. It felt good not because of the pleasure, but because it was...was...

Intimate.

Zoro kept the rhythm with Sanji until the cook reached climax, moaning fitfully into Zoro's full lips.

He rested his head against Zoro's shoulder, face tucked into the crook of his neck. They lay together, breathing together, sweat collecting between them where their skin met. Sanji's fingers ran tenderly though Zoro's hair, those of his other hand still gripping the swordsman's.

"I love you."

He hadn't meant to say it. The words had just sort of found a way out of his mouth anyway. It was true enough, and he was ready to say it; he just didn't know if Sanji was ready to hear it.

The cook just lay there, no sign that he'd heard. Then he rolled off and grinned at Zoro, as though nothing had been said at all.

_Maybe he didn't hear me, _Zoro thought, pushing a thumb against the cook's smiling lips.

* * *

_Ok so, _I'll be on hiatus for a little while. I think I've left you lot enough porn to be going on with

d(ಠ_ಠ d )


	15. Chapter 15

It is 3.30 in the morning and I am still a little drunk from being out. Why am I not in bed. This is half a chapter, and I want to write the rest, but I might fall over. So I will write the rest of it tomorrow. I'm putting this up now, because it was sometime in JULY when I last updated this, and that is UNACCEPTABLE. Warning/disclaimer: may feature all sorts of heinous errors both spellingy and grammatical, but I am half asleep so forgive me. You are my favourite people, especially Feral Inari. I am going to stop talking now and let you enjoy the porn.

**All Good Things**

The day was hot – they were riding the currents between two summer islands, the overlapping weather systems from both combining to produce a sticky, wet heat almost as though they were living inside a humidifier. Chopper was near completely out of it, banished below deck where the shade and the cooling effects of the water on the ship's hull meant the atmosphere was close to tolerable. Usopp had retreated to join him not long after, tongue lolling out, hair all frizzed up like he'd stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Luffy had rolled around on deck for a while, complaining it was too hot, the sun was too bright, too strong, that the boards of the deck were scorching him as he rolled, that Nami was evil for setting them on this course, that he needed meat to make it not be so hot anymore, until finally their navigator snapped, dutifully concussed their dear captain and rammed a barrel on top of his unconscious form. Finally in the shade, Luffy was sleeping fitfully. Nami and Robin seemed to be the only ones capable of actually enjoying the climate, reclining on deck and dozing under high-factor sunscreen.

But the heat out on deck couldn't compete with the climbing temperatures of the store room.

"Fuck, Zoro,"

"_Would you fucking shut up already? The whole ship can hear you!_"

"Less talking, more sucking."

"The fuck did you say?"

"Alright, you know what, your cock doesn't have to talk so let's use that instead, then you can run your mouth all you want while we're busy."

Zoro just stared back at him dumbfounded, mouth annoyingly slack around his dick. "The fuck is with you today?" The swordsman asked as Sanji began to tug his trousers down. Strong hands stopped him. "Let's at least get _behind _something first, in case you hadn't noticed we're right in front of the fucking door." Sanji grumbled internally and hoisted his trousers up, sloping around the back of the nearest stack of crates and breaking eyeline with the door. Zoro was still on his knees.

"Would you fucking _come on _already?" he hissed, exasperated, dropping his trousers again. In what felt like an 'eventually', Zoro joined him. Sanji's hands were working at his zip as soon as he was within range.

"Seriously though, why the hell are you so wound up? It's at least a hundred-ten in the shade today, and yet you're like a cat in heat." Sanji watched Zoro's face twist as he found his cock. He honestly had no answer to that, but he was coiled up tight and Zoro was sure as hell going to do something about it.

"Just fucking get on with it asshole, the longer you sit there jibbering the less time we have."

"You're such a smooth-talker, no wonder you're such a successful ladies-man."

Zoro grimaced as Sanji worked his cock the way he knew felt good. He hated how Zoro's jibes went straight to his groin. They were both sweating, dripping in the humidity; Zoro's shirt plastered to his chest, picking out his contours and erect nipples. Sanji admired him, breathing heavy, hand moving faster as if he was jerking himself off rather than someone else. Zoro put a hand over his to slow him down, and leaned in to kiss him hard.

Sanji flexed against him, arms around his shoulders, and was hoisted by his thighs up against the crates. There was an awkward moment as Zoro tried to both hold him up and apply lube at the same time, but once Sanji figured out what the hell he was trying to do and supported his own bodyweight by wrapping his legs around Zoro's waist, everything worked out fine.

And then Zoro was slipping into him, face buried into his neck, huge and whole and hard inside him. Knowing Zoro couldn't see his face, he let the full pleasure of it show unashamedly; mouth wide like he'd be crying out from it, cheeks flushed and eyes rolling back under knitted brows, head tipping back against the crate as his fingernails dug into Zoro's shoulders.

Zoro was beginning to read him far too easily. He pressed his teeth into Sanji's neck and Sanji knew he understood, working his fingers tight into Zoro's thick hair to confirm it. Zoro knew he wanted to be fucked rough.

Zoro leaned back and Sanji let the expression on his face dissolve to nothing more than a demure, irritated blush. Zoro gazed up and over him as he watched, feeling the man's cock twitch inside him, clamping his cool demeanour over the writhing need flooding him as Zoro bit his lip and shot him a look like Sanji had no idea just how badly he wanted him. Then Zoro's lips parted and his arms gripped Sanji tight, using sheer strength to lift him and raise him slowly off his cock, then lower him back on. Sanji grit his teeth and held it in.

And then Zoro was pounding him, one hand supporting his ass and the other braced against the crate, probably half to make sure the damn thing didn't topple over given the force of his thrusts. Sanji clamped a hand over his mouth, breathing hard through his nose as Zoro thrust into him over and over, making him feel so damn good and driving him mad all at the same time, slamming up tight against him just the way he wanted.

Zoro was wringing with wet, breathless and hard against him, giving him exactly what he needed, fucking him just right. He felt the need to tell him, to let Zoro know just how good he was feeling, but he held it back. Inside of him was beginning to blossom, but he kept the spreading buds to himself, whispering only "I'm going to come," into Zoro's full, open lips.

When they were both done, Zoro kissed him again softly and without thinking about it or even meaning to, he slipped his arms around Zoro's shoulders and held him tight. Zoro dropped him gently back to the floor, hands sliding over his hips and buttocks in a way that made him shudder. Then he released him and turned away, tugging off his shirt altogether and laying it along with his other clothes on top of a waist-height crate. "I need a damn shower now, dumbass love-cook," he muttered, mostly to himself, and wandered unsteadily into the bathroom.

Sanji just stood there, trousers around one ankle, shirt twisted and wrinkled and out-of-sorts over his shoulders, sticky with his orgasm, ass sticky with Zoro's, and suddenly a thought occurred to him. "Fucking damn, it's hot today." he announced to the empty room.

He dressed himself again, making himself presentable in the reflection of a shiny cooking pot. In the background behind him, he noticed Zoro's clothes draping over the crate. He turned and looked at them over on the other side of the room, then slowly crossed it. He took up Zoro's shirt hesitantly carefully as though it was a precious thing; Zoro's old, gross, sweaty and still-warm shirt, the same shirt he always wore, the shirt he'd just fucked Sanji in. He brought it to his face and breathed in deep. That scent made things stir in him all over again as Zoro's off-key humming reached his poor unsuspecting ears.

And everything seemed to drop away as reality streamed in, black and cold. He was standing alone in a dark room while two beautiful women lay, almost naked, right outside, smelling a guy's shirt. The shirt that belonged to the guy he'd just fucked. To the guy he'd been fucking, exclusively, for the last few months.

_What am I doing? Just what the fuck am I doing?_


	16. Chapter 16

_Part 2_

The last light of day painted the sky orange and crimson as the sun slipped over the horizon, warming the bellies of passing clouds with a golden glow. Sanji lit yet another cigarette, its embers flaring in the gathering dusk, and watched the last throes of the sunset over the gentle waves. The torrid heat of the day was finally beginning to dissipate, leaving the evening with a pleasant warmth. A good temperature for dining alfresco.

Heavy steps on wooden stairs broke through his calm and set his heart racing again. He'd avoided Zoro for most of the day, busying himself with other things as the swordsman napped quietly off in a secluded corner of the deck. He sucked in a huge breath through the cigarette, stubbed it out amongst the others in his makeshift ashtray, and lit up again.

Zoro's hand slid against his waist with that familiar heat and gentle strength. Next would come the kiss to his neck, the nip to his earlobe, and those areas tingled already with anticipation. He shoved Zoro away roughly before he got to do either.

"The fuck?" Zoro muttered. Sanji couldn't even face him.

Then he sighed and turned around.

Zoro was just standing there, looking at him. Looking at him like he knew already. Yesterday, Sanji would have admired the way the sunset made Zoro's skin glow like beautiful polished bronze. But not today.

He ran his fingers up into his hair and sighed again, looking down at his feet. "We need to talk," he said, voice small like the words were reluctant to leave his lips.

"Then talk." Zoro told him, no-nonsense as always.

He straightened himself up, forced himself to meet Zoro's gaze. "This isn't what I want."

They stared at one another for a while. Sanji expected Zoro to yell at him, to storm off, to do _something, _but he just stood there, calm and stoic, and waited for Sanji to continue. "I can't do this anymore." he continued. "It was nothing but a distraction anyway, right? So we just helped each-other out a little, no big deal,"

Silence hung in the air between them. He swallowed. This was more difficult than he'd thought. He supposed he should stop trying to get off lightly.

"Look Zoro, it's been fun, I won't deny that. But it's weird, for a whole bunch of reasons." He wished Zoro would say something. Anything. "We're crewmates. Crewmates do each other favours, but that's where it stops."

He was desperately trying to find a way to draw a line under this, but the words just wouldn't come. He wanted to make out that this was no big deal, just laugh it off and forget it ever happened. But he knew there was more to it than that. And at the same time, he didn't want to admit that there was more between them than a simple release exchange. A lot more.

But he'd made his decision.

"I'm not into guys." he said. It sounded ridiculous even to his own ears, even though he believed it. Zoro stared back at him flatly, and he prepared himself for an ascorbic comeback. _You sure have a funny way of showing it. For someone not into men you've gone pretty deep into me. You always make that face when you're not enjoying yourself?_

Zoro said nothing. Sanji wanted to shake him.

"It's bad enough that my first was a guy," he said, then regretted it. "Wait, I didn't mean it like that-"

But he supposed he did, really. That was why they were having this conversation in the first place. He sighed, and relented. "When I picture myself in twenty years' time; I've found All Blue. I have the restaurant I've always dreamed of, the recognition of that damn old man, and I'm settled. With a woman who has long, flowing hair and _enormous _breasts, and is the mother of my children."

He turned to Zoro. The swordsman was staring off across the open sea, silent as the sun finally bade its farewell to the day and dipped below the horizon. The vestiges of some feeling rose up and for a moment Sanji wanted to kiss him. But they belonged to a past self, and were ultimately a mistake. Zoro was just his nakama, and had never been anything more.

"Look, it's just...this could never..." The end of that sentence was lost with the sunset. To finish it would would imply he'd considered and evaluated what lay at the end of it, and he didn't want Zoro to know. He didn't want to know himself.

Zoro turned and leaned back against the bannister. "I always knew this was coming." he said.

Somehow Sanji's first reaction was to be insulted. Insulted that he was so predictable. Insulted that Zoro had considered such a thing while they were together. Together? What the hell was he thinking of? Then another thought occurred to him. "If you 'knew', then why fall-" He bit his lip. He'd gone and said too much.

Zoro turned his head to look at him, expression on him like he'd just found Sanji out. "So you _did_ hear me." he said, and for a moment Sanji expected Zoro to strike him. It would have been better, in some ways. But there was no anger in his voice, only a certain weariness. "It doesn't matter anyway, I guess." Zoro shoved off the balcony and made for the stairs. "You'll know when you feel it for yourself, one day. It's not something you can help."

Sanji watched him go, trying to convince himself against the gnaw in his gut that he was doing the right thing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello!** Pre~fic notes and botherences, feel free to skip.

1. Spoilers will continue apace from hereon in, but I'll be following the manga storyline rather than the animu one, so no mention of filler arcs like G8.

2. Macarons are French and delicious

3. Bonus Question: I want to get a yamato/haga inochi doujin (possibly multiple and ESPECIALLY that pink-fronted one HNNNG) but I can never either find anywhere that stocks them or find anywhere that both mentions them and actually has copies ('you want that? Oh, it's unavailable LOL'). So if you have a source for them, GIMME

4. I will shut up now.

* * *

**14. Moving on is hard to do**

Afterwards, everything had returned to an odd sort of normality. The normality that existed between them before Zoro's advances in the galley all those months ago, before they'd gotten much better acquainted than nakama ever should, before the many, many times they'd gotten close and naked together-

Well, best not to think about that now. It was over and done with.

Zoro was a little quieter with him, perhaps. It had been difficult to tell how things were between them; they hadn't really been around one-another much while roaming ten thousand metres above the sea. They certainly bickered less when they were sharing one-another's company, though there was still the occasional spat – Zoro hadn't lost his knack for pissing Sanji _right _off - but when they did fight it felt different, like the heat was gone from it.

It was as though Zoro was the same person he'd been before, just faded slightly. Like a fragment of crystal that once reflected light with fierce brightness, rotated away so that flat plane no longer faced you. You could still see the crystal, but its brilliance was dimmed. Sanji had since realised this meant Zoro had shown him parts of himself none of the other crewmembers had seen, and now those parts were closed off to him again. He wondered if Zoro was seeing something similar in him; if Zoro hadn't been the only one to share parts of himself a little closer to the bone than people usually got to appreciate.

Sanji cut another slice through the vegetable on his chopping board and frowned down as the precisely-cut, wafer-thin section peeled itself gently from the knife to lie on top of the others that had come before it. He'd been feeling subdued since they'd returned from Skypiea. At first he'd thought it was the effects of the abrupt change in altitude, then blamed leaving the wonder that was a floating land on a sea above their own, not to mention separation from his dear Conis-chan for his melancholy. But none of those excuses fit right, and he knew it.

Most of the time, he was his usual gentlemanly, suave and sophisticated self – whenever the others were around, or whenever he was tending to Nami-san or Robin-chan. But when he was on his own, doing his own thing, that feeling crept in on him like a sigh and he noticed how dull the world seemed, as though there was a certain emptiness he hadn't been aware of before.

It was impatience, he told himself, beginning his chopping again in earnest, sweeping the slices into a hot pan and delighting in the hissed applause of the steaming oil. Impatience. Impatience to get to the next island, to get on with their grand adventure, to meet more beautiful girls. Impatience to find All Blue and prove to that old man he was right all along. Impatience, that's all it was.

He kept telling himself that as he continued the preparations for dinner, not watching the swordsman through the galley window as he worked out on the stern, not wondering what he might be feeling, not thinking at all about the three words Zoro had once whispered into his ear.

-b-

He'd know it was a dream, even when he was in it. Everything had that fuzzy tint of imagining – the bed that was too large, the lazily-rendered table with the flower-vase on it that bent in on itself if he tried to look too closely at it, even the room itself, too close and too perfect, too beautifully-illuminated by the soft yellow light of dawn.

But he'd been especially certain it was a dream because he was with someone he wasn't supposed to be. It was his dream; he could have chosen to be with anyone – Nami, Robin, any number of women who'd taken a starring role in his masturbation fantasies (frequently with co-stars – Sanji was a generous guy with plenty of affection to go round) – but apparently they hadn't even entered his mind.

Zoro was asleep beside him, tucked into him, cheek against Sanji's chest and hand tucked under his own chin like a child. This being a dream, Sanji knew Zoro was holding something in that hand, a bright, pretty pendant, and though he'd no idea where Zoro had gotten it from Sanji was fairly sure it belonged to him, or had done at some point. Why Zoro was holding his pendant was another mystery. He wanted to get a look at it and lifted his head to peer round, but it was too well concealed by the man's grasp and he knew if he moved around any more he risked waking him, so instead he lay his head gently back down against the pillow and watched him sleep. It didn't really matter that Zoro had it anyway, he guessed. He was certainly treating it like a precious thing, so Sanji supposed he could trust him with it.

They weren't even naked, which in a strange way made the dream somewhat more difficult to explain to himself when he eventually (and, though he'd never admit it, reluctantly) woke.

He realised he was holding Zoro in an embrace, arm curled around him and hand resting tenderly on his shoulder, feeling that familiar strength and warmth coming from him, the soft movement of Zoro's chest and back as he breathed. Sanji thought perhaps he aught to release Zoro, to rock him backwards onto the bed and leave him to sleep alone, but, this being a dream, it was easier to decide that that wasn't really what he wanted to do. He wanted to lie there with Zoro, remembering the feel of him, remembering the contentment that came from being like this with him. After all, it did no harm. What happened here was between him and himself.

He traced his hand from Zoro's shoulder slowly along the sleeping man's neck, slipping up into Zoro's warm hair, feeling that familiar want and arousal bunch at his groin. He wasn't supposed to want Zoro, but in this moment, he still did.

He frowned. Something wasn't right. He pulled his hand away and to his horror Zoro's hair came away with it in rough, green clumps.

-b-

His eyes snapped open. His body relaxed, as though it had been tense. The underside of the wooden decking boards above greeted him, Merry creaking gently around him just like always. His hands clenched into fists where they were, the memory of Zoro's shed hair still uncomfortably fresh in his mind. His hands were empty, of course.

He frowned to himself, and, not looking back to where he knew Zoro was still sleeping, got up to start the day.

-b-

In a strange way, he was angry that Zoro had taken it all so coolly. Sanji had told him that whatever existed between them, beyond simple nakamaship, was over, and Zoro had just accepted it.

That had undoubtedly been the best of all possible outcomes. There was no shouting, no embarrassed cover-up explanations to make to the rest of the crew, no disagreement at all. Zoro hadn't fought for him in the slightest.

Not that he'd been expecting that. It had been a possibility in the back of his mind when he'd called things off, and if he'd had to kick Zoro's ass to make him understand it was over he'd been prepared for that, but it had all turned out to be unnecessary. Zoro had just turned and walked away. They'd spent a couple of months 'together', getting to know one another more intimately, getting..._closer,_ perhaps...but Zoro had accepted the end of it all without any difficulty.

He knew it was weird to be angry about such a thing, and perhaps it made him a touch vain, but it pissed Sanji off how Zoro could so easily brush aside the time they'd spent together and happily return to his dumb, monotonous routine of weight-lifting, eating and sleeping. He even seemed glad to be rid of the distraction, and had gone into what Sanji supposed was some sort of 'zen-mode' where the working-out and sleeping portions of his routine expanded even beyond their previous limits before their..._affair_...to the point where it seemed those two activities were all Zoro ever did. Though to call it an affair granted their coupling some sort of credibility so Sanji shook the word out of his mind no sooner than it had found its way in.

Was it really that bad to expect something in the way of disappointment on Zoro's part? Up until Sanji had confronted him, he'd still wanted to continue doing what they were doing, in secret when they knew no one could see. And more than occasionally in not-so-secret where, if they were looking in the right places at the right times, anyone could have seen.

He was worth some moping, at least. Maybe even worth pining over, but Zoro seemed unwilling to do either. Perhaps he didn't care as much as he'd stated, after all.

"Damn Marimo." he muttered to himself.

"Zoro? Did he do something?" Chopper asked him innocently, perched on the ship's balcony beside Sanji's shoulder, swinging his little legs and watching his fishing line trailing in the water.

He smiled and patted Chopper's hat. "How about I make some macarons?" he announced, loud enough that the ship's other two ruffians could hear.

Chopper's face lit up, and Luffy and Usopp appeared as if from nowhere to voice their enthusiastic approval.

He'd made green ones especially for Zoro, hoping they'd elicit an amusing reaction, but all he got for his efforts was a vague scowl in his direction as though Zoro couldn't quite place his intentions.


	18. 15 Don't expect it to be easy

**15. Don't expect it to be easy**

The breeze threaded soft fingers through the cook's golden hair, brushing strands gently away out of his eye. It tugged at the front of his shirt, slipping between the buttons that fastened it around him, running down the inside of his collar to caress his warm, pale skin. Zoro had known that warmth too, once. His hands still remembered it, ached for it, just as his body ached for Sanji's naked heat, to grip him tight through his coil and release, just as his arms ached with the want to fall asleep holding that warmth again, close and tender until the sun rose.

A part of him still smouldered for Sanji, he was man enough to admit that. But everything that once was had been reduced to dimly cooling embers, like some vast all-consuming inferno had raged through his soul, bright and brilliant and overwhelming only to fizzle out, leaving him with nothing more than ash. There was heat in there still and he knew it; from time to time he'd catch himself looking at the cook in such a way, like he used to when they'd been sharing each-other's company - like right now, freshly moored up against some new island that seemed to host nothing grander than grass and trees.

But the cook had ended it, and he'd known then that there would be nothing he could do about it. He'd never expected their affair to last forever, and he'd known from the very start that Sanji would be the one to draw a line under things – it had all just happened sooner than he'd hoped. Zoro had made a deal with himself that when their time was up, it was up and he wouldn't protest it. What would the point of that have been? But that wasn't the only deal he'd made with himself, and he was paying for the other one now.

It was times like this that it was hardest, he told himself. The times when his memory was most vivid. Overcoming them was what it took to be a stronger man. His memories of Sanji, of their time spent together, of the taste of his lips, of the feeling of him inside, of the cooks deep, musky scent that drove him wild...all these things were nothing more than veins of red heat amongst the dying embers.

Their relationship had been built on a foundation of broken laws that were more 'terms of engagement' than anything, too weak to stand up to the force of the attraction between them. In the end, agreeing new rules had become more of a joke than a promise. But Zoro had made his own rules at the beginning, after Sanji had come to find him in the hotel that first time, when he'd been sitting on the windowsill making his peace with the early morning and wondering what the hell he was getting himself into.

That morning, while Sanji still slept fitfully in bed as Zoro was watching the little port below come to life, he'd decided that one day, maybe even that same day, the cook would end things between them, and he'd have to take it on the chin. It might be hard, and it might end sooner than he'd hope, but he'd know it was coming so he could handle it when the time came. The other thing he'd decided, wrapped in nothing but the cook's shirt and the chill air, was that he wouldn't hold himself back. If feelings stirred in him, he'd let them, and give them the fullest light so that they could grow.

He'd fallen in love, and even though the cook didn't reciprocate, he wasn't sorry in the slightest. Better to let the inferno rage, better to feel the excitement of being entirely consumed by something so powerful, to feel life renewed even in the darkest parts of his soul and suffer the raw pain of the consequences than to never feel any of that at all. And the pain wouldn't last forever. Some days he barely felt it at all now. He wondered how much of it Sanji had actually noticed – Zoro had locked himself down pretty tight, pouring his efforts into training in an attempt to clear his mind. There was no use dwelling on the past, you could never go back.

But days like today were the hardest.

The breeze tripped lazily across the grassy prairie, sunlight catching in verdant waves as though they were simply stepping from one sea to another. Luffy, Usopp and Chopper had already wandered on ahead, chattering and laughing without a care. Below him, the cook stood on the island, a tall and beautiful living memory that stoked the embers in Zoro's chest, making them glow again and remind him with flickers of flame just how powerful that feeling had once been.

The breeze sang in his ears like a sigh, carrying with it the sweet scents of grass pollen.

Days like today were hardest, because Zoro was happy.

-b-

Zoro had been drinking steadily ever since he and Chopper had been unceremoniously ousted from the round-the-island boat race, and sat swigging rum seemingly untroubled on the warm grass even now, after the Strawhat Pirates had been declared the losers and were about to have one of their nakama taken away.

From the way he had his back turned to the rest of them, Sanji had guessed that the alcohol was leading him towards a general aura of petulance, a view that was confirmed by his outburst at Chopper's miserable reluctance to change crews despite their acceptance of the Davy Back rules. Sanji agreed with Zoro's words, but he kept it to himself.

Their team event had come next, though in Chopper's absence they'd ended up one short. Just the two of them, having to work together. The unfortunate side-effect of the situation was that it brought all their unresolved tensions out of the woodwork and had ended up as an excuse to exorcise their frustrations with one-another under the banner of Competitiveness.

Zoro had swung from simple ill-temper through to impermeable intractability in one smooth move, prodding and goading and generally being a stubborn asshole when they should have been concentrating on the game itself. Sanji supposed he hadn't behaved much better himself, though. He couldn't lose to Zoro, just as Zoro couldn't lose to him – there were deeper prides at stake than their nakama realised.

And now that they were both laid flat out on the grass, sore and badly beaten, Sanji's mind drifted back to something Zoro had said earlier.

_Oi, that ball looks good on you_

The idea to flatter him had been a ridiculous one, and it certainly only carried weight when coming from the beautiful Nami-san, but all the same he couldn't seem to shake it out of his mind. Zoro knew it would never work, so why say it at all? It seemed a very pointed way of teasing him.

Whatever, things were never going to do like this. More than ever, they needed to put everything behind them and work together, or they'd lose yet another nakama to the oddly-haired captain.

He needed a cigarette.

"Oi, cook." he heard Zoro mutter. "Give me ten seconds."

Looked like Zoro was thinking along the same lines he was. "Yeah," he replied. "Sounds about right."

-b-

It was strange. There were times, for all their bickering and fractiousness, that they understood one another perfectly without having to say a word. Nami had thought for all the world that they were about to start fighting again and snatch defeat from the jaws of victory for the second time that match as Zoro ran full-tilt at Sanji, who was standing beneath the giant fish-monster, bristling with readiness. As Sanji's leg flicked out she'd felt her heart drop, knowing that they were royally screwed now that intra-crew competitiveness had once again overwhelmed inter-crew rivalry, and decided that as long as she wasn't chosen as the spoils for the loss of this match (unlikely, given her cuteness) she was going to beat them both senseless for it.

Then Zoro leapt into the air, Sanji's leg coming seamlessly underneath him as Zoro aimed himself at the Wotan, Sanji's powerful kick driving him forward as beautifully coordinated as it would have been if they'd practiced the move a thousand times.

She watched, agog, as Zoro sank the huge head of the ballman into the goal ring. As the crowd erupted around them, everyone shouting just as loud as their own crewmates, elated that they could have Chopper back, she stole a tight hug from Usopp.

-b-

The sound of the final whistle. They'd won, and done so by working together. It hadn't been so hard in practice, but up until they absolutely had to neither of them was willing to give an inch. Somehow he'd known what Zoro had in mind when he'd come running straight at him, his body reacting instinctively upon seeing that determined glare. Not difficult at all. He supposed it probably fed from the same intuition that had let him read Zoro's body before; when he'd known how to drive Zoro out of his mind with pleasure, when he'd known the expressions that settled on his face as he neared orgasm – and those of smiling serene contentment that followed it.

As the warm breeze blew in, he realised for the first time that he'd never see those expressions again. It hit him like a bolt to the gut, and brought with it a sudden stinging sense of loss. It was over, and because he'd wanted it to be. No more secret liaisons in hotel rooms, no more stolen moments in the hold, no more exchanges of wanton looks across the deck in broad daylight, no more of Zoro's seductive words breathed into his ear, no more hearing his name over and over in Zoro's deep, unrestrained voice. No more plotting the contours of Zoro's body with his fingertips. No more waking up next to that sleeping warmth. No more being utterly content with just a stupid swordsman for company.

He looked up at the sky, brilliant blue and flecked with fluffy, passing clouds. Perhaps he'd been too hasty. Perhaps he'd made a mistake. In the long-term it wasn't what he wanted, but would there have been any harm in keeping things going a little longer...? He glanced over at Zoro, who was paying him no attention whatsoever. Whatever feelings Zoro had had for him were most certainly gone. Maybe Sanji could admit he had felt something for Zoro, and that was a big _maybe_ with a large dose of _perhaps _mixed in, but it was too late for regrets now.

It had been fun, but Zoro had obviously moved on easily and already forgotten, and it was beyond time Sanji did the same.


	19. You know it's a bad idea

**16. You know it's a bad idea, but you'll do it anyway**

He'd been searching everywhere for it all day. High and low, under every cushion, inside every drawer, beneath the sofas and above the cupboards, but to no avail. The pendant wasn't in the house anywhere. Well, it was less of a house and more of a vast mansion, furnished in a gothic style, drapes and chandeliers and wall-hangings everywhere, all manner of reds and purples complementing the plush, cushioned furniture. The corridors of the mansion seemed to extend endlessly – no matter how long he walked or trotted or ran in any one direction, he never reached the end, there were always more rooms to look through.

He wanted to find it, but he didn't want the others to know he was looking for it so he was keeping an eye out for them too.

He pushed his way into yet another room, finding a huge, dark bedroom covered in baroque wallpaper and an ornate four-poster bed made of delicately carved wood that towered above him as he walked past it.

The pendant Zoro had been holding the other day had been his own, not Sanji's. But Sanji had had one too, or so he'd thought. He'd put it away somewhere, not really thinking it was something too important to him, but now he couldn't find it and that panicked him. Perhaps it had been precious after all, he just hadn't realised it at the time.

He pulled out a couple of drawers in the ancient wooden desk and opened up the wardrobe, finding nothing but fish and seawater, the occasional crab and a dress made from pink grapefruit (which had all seemed perfectly reasonable at the time). It really wasn't anywhere to be seen.

A gust of wind blew against the doors to the balcony, rattling them and drawing Sanji's attention. He sloped over and peered out. It was dusk outside, and the sky was lit with a deep, garnet blood red. The garden was even bigger than he'd imagined, stretching as far as the eye could see with finely manicured lawns, fountains and intricate flower beds slowly disappearing under the canopy of a thick forest in the distance.

He pressed himself against the glass and found it to be bubble-like, flexing under him as he pushed through it and out the other side, standing in the cool air on the wide stone balcony. He lit up a cigarette and admired the view for a moment. Then he noticed there was another balcony beside the one he was standing on, perhaps ten metres or so away, which must have been connected to the next bedroom. On that other balcony, Zoro stood, leaning forwards on the flat stone top and peering into the distance.

Sanji shouted over to him, but he didn't hear. He waved his arms in an attempt to get his attention, but that didn't work either. Zoro was focused on the horizon.

Then Sanji remembered the thing he'd lost, and felt a pang of guilt. Zoro turned away from him to go back inside the mansion, and he noticed that this time, Zoro's hands were empty.

So Sanji gave up searching.

-b-

"Oi! Oi, Zoro! Where's Robin-chan? I don't see her on the ship."

"Yeah, she's gone. She and Chopper went to the city."

"What?"

"They said they were going shopping."

He and Zoro were alone on the Merry, moored up against a lonely bit of land around the back of Water 7. Nami, Usopp and Luffy had already carted the gold off to be valued, and now everyone else was gone too. Once upon a time that would have presented an ideal opportunity, but now it just felt strange.

"How can this be? You're the only other person on the ship? What a boring atmosphere!"

Zoro didn't even turn to look in his direction. "I agree." he said, with just the hint of a sigh.

"Right, I'm going shopping too. Watch the ship while I'm gone."

Zoro said nothing; simply closed his eyes again and resumed his snoring. Sanji turned, with a wave over his shoulder, and left him alone.

-b-

It was fair to say, Water 7 was a pretty remarkable island. It was a miracle of impossible engineering; an entire city built like a great fountain, the towering jets of water erupting from the very top providing the flow and the lifeblood of the streets and canals, cooling spray carried drifting in the air depending on which way the breeze was blowing. The streets were clean and bustling, the people friendly and the women beautiful.

Sanji sucked in a breath of fresh sea air and grinned to himself. Soon they'd have their money and could get Merry repaired, spruced up good-as-new, ready to return to sea. Then maybe he could take the ladies for some fine dining, treat them to something pleasant after all the hardship. Or maybe send the others out into town while he cooked them something special...he jostled the overflowing bags in his hands at the thought, and his grin spread wider. Good things were going to happen on this island, he could tell.

He heard some faint girlish giggling, and looked up. A few stories above him was an open window, lace curtains billowing out from it. People up to no good in the middle of the day.

But he'd been there himself, on more than one occasion. He could still remember what it was like to have your head so thick with thoughts of another that there was no room for anything else. He could still recall the frustration of having to wait for the opportunity to be alone together, and the explosive effects when that long-awaited moment finally arrived. Sanji could still remember wanting Zoro, needing to be with him, alone and naked, wanting to have that time alone without pressure and secretly hoping for the world to turn slower and prolong their breif exit from reality.

He remembered when Zoro had stood bare-ass naked before the open window in their hotel room, waiting for the sweat to dry on his skin after they'd just fucked, sunning himself in the warm afternoon glow. The first time Zoro had yelled out his name during orgasm, and every time after that. The morning when he'd gone out to fetch some food, returning to find him dripping wet from the shower. That same morning, when he'd woken up wrapped in the swordsman's warm arms, tucked in close to him.

He frowned down at his groin as though it was traitorous, and decided to perch on someone's steps until his erection went away. He dropped his bags of shopping carefully at his feet, and lit a cigarette.

He'd gotten used to their routine when they reached a port, so perhaps it was only to be expected that he'd formed an association between dry land and getting laid. He'd wandered past some of the more unscrupulous districts of Water 7 earlier, by chance rather than intent, and seen what was 'on offer' there. Sanji had never liked the idea of visiting whore-houses. The women who worked there were gaunt, hollow shells of human beings, long since drained of all hope and self-worth, forced to simply 'exist' rather than live properly. He had no interest in screwing them, only saving them; but that was a pointless wish so he stayed away altogether.

There had been men there too, though. Zoro was a man of honour, but Sanji wasn't too sure how far down his scruples went. Perhaps if he got lost in the right direction, he might find himself there, and propositioned. Or even if he landed in the right tavern, got tipsy and fell into the arms of some stranger. Nami and the other two idiots might have returned to the ship already and relieved him of his watch; Zoro could be somewhere in the city right now, undressed by someone else's hands, writhing and sweating, head falling back and yelling out someone else's name.

Sanji realised his shoe-heel was tapping vigorously against the pavement and steadied himself, taking a deep drag on his cigarette. What Zoro did with his time was no concern of his, was it?

But it took another five minutes of sitting in an aroused, confused, angry state before Sanji managed to shift the thoughts from his head and set off again. It was still simmering there though, distracting him, and soon he was lost, telling himself it was the city's fault for being a pain in the ass to walk around in.

"Man, I'm wandering around like that shitty swordsman." he muttered to himself, staring off the end of yet another dead end walkway.

There were footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and was delighted to see his beloved Robin-chan.

-b-

Sanji sighed deeply and closed his eyes, letting his head drop back, listening to the gentle rush of waves over the beach. He'd always found that rhythm so comforting and nostalgic, so calming and reassuring, like being held tight to someone's chest and the warm beat beneath it. He thought of the Baratie, the afternoons when he was young with nothing to do, where he would lie on his belly against the sun-hot decking boards and watch the swirling waters below them, listening to that tender soft slap-slap as the waves hit the pontoon.

How far he'd come. How far they had all come.

How far they had all come, only to fall apart at the seams.

Night had fallen some time ago, but the light spilling from the great city was more than enough to light the little patch of island he was waiting on, hoping that he might catch a glimpse of Robin, hoping that he'd be there to greet her when she returned to them, there to explain what the hell was going on.

He felt the urge to tuck his knees under his chin and hug his shins, like he used to do when he was little, but he resisted it and straightened himself out instead. His heels dug into the soft grass at his feet as he watched them, pressing down, tugging it apart from the sandy topsoil. There were lights on in the Going Merry. It was like watching their former, happy life from the outside.

Everything was in ruins. They were all at odds with one another, all tense and dismayed and aggravated, lost one nakama, one missing and another they had to leave behind. He'd done the only thing he knew how to and blamed Zoro, telling him it was somehow his fault for not kicking the shit out of the Franky Brothers, feeling the rage build inside him as Zoro shot the accusations right back at him. He guessed what he was really looking for was an outlet, something to focus all his confused anxieties on, and Zoro had been the safest option. Fighting with him still felt like second nature and Sanji had lost himself in it for a moment, getting exactly the distraction he wanted until Nami had returned from talking to their captain and scolded them for it. Her interruption had jolted them both, he'd noticed. Perhaps Zoro was secretly thankful for the distraction too.

They'd left Merry to Usopp and headed for a hotel in the city with their things. Sanji had left soon after, wanting to look for Robin, but also secretly not wanting to linger in that depressed atmosphere.

How the hell they were going to get out of this one he'd no idea.

He tapped the toe of his shoe against the rock he was perched on, then took in another scan of the beach. His heart leapt at the sight of a tall dark figure coming from the direction of entrance to the town, but he knew almost instantly from the silhouette that it wasn't Robin. He sighed again, disappointed, and gazed up the other side of the beach again, towards where the damn Franky House had been before they'd obliterated it.

When he glanced back, the figure was almost to him and heading right for him, close enough now that he could hear the tell-tale clinking of the man's katana.

For whatever reason, Zoro had come seeking him out. Or maybe he'd just gotten lost and was gravitating towards someone he knew.

Sanji watched as the swordsman found himself a seat on the same rocky outcrop a couple of metres away. Zoro said nothing, barely even acknowledging that Sanji was there at all. They were quiet for a while, stiff and still, together but not, with nothing but the sound and smell of the sea between them.

"Tough day." Sanji mumbled eventually.

Zoro didn't respond. He just sat there, hard and stoic, unwilling to waver in the slightest from his assumed position as their crew's emotional bedrock. Sometimes Sanji hated him for being able to keep so calm and objective in circumstances like this. He made it seem as though everyone else was overreacting, or that Zoro himself didn't care that much, neither of which were true.

"Oi, cook," Zoro said. There was an uncertainty, a minute waver in his voice that made Sanji stare over at him. Zoro's gaze was fixed forward. "Just for tonight..."

Sanji felt himself blush. His body ran hot and cold in the same instant.

The tide was coming in. The waves boomed against the beach headland, filling the air with noise.

"Yeah." he said slowly. "Just for tonight."

Zoro stood and pulled his katana free, resting them against the rocks, and stepped towards Sanji.

Sanji felt awkward, not quite knowing where to put himself. Should he wait for Zoro to come over or meet him halfway? What the fuck was he thinking with this anyway? Was Zoro really suggesting what he thought he was suggesting, or had Sanji got the very wrong end of the stick? His mind was reeling, and Zoro was already standing in front of him. He got to his feet without thinking, hoping things would become clearer, not wanting to make the first move in case he was about to make a mortified fool out of himself.

Then Zoro's hand slid around his waist, and everything fell into place.

He supposed taking solace this way wasn't uncommon. If it was just for tonight, as Zoro said, then he'd allow it, drowning out the day with simple pleasure. Zoro had shown no inclination towards him for quite a while, so it was probably fine to do it this way without confusing things. Perhaps one last, fantastic fuck was what they both needed anyway.

The hand on his waist was warm but rigid. Sanji closed his eyes, expecting Zoro's kiss to fall, expecting to be claimed by those full lips again as Zoro's hands worked into his hair and held him tight. He was hard simply at the thought of it, and damn the consequences. It was just for tonight. Zoro's nose brushed his cheek and Sanji tilted his head, waiting to meet Zoro's press.

But it never came.

"Can you," Zoro muttered, pointing at Sanji's groin. It took him a startled moment to realise Zoro wanted him to unzip. Why he couldn't do it himself was beyond him. He obliged, shooting Zoro a look, then moved to unbutton his waistcoat. "Here is enough." Zoro told him, and dropped to his knees.

So this was what it really felt like to get sexual favours.

He was watching himself disappear into Zoro again, watching Zoro's lips glide down his cock and making him hard as fuck, but it was different to all the times before. Sanji's pleasure was no longer Zoro's focus, just something that had to be done. Not that he hadn't still come hard, fingers clenched in the back of Zoro's shirt, experiencing a climax he hadn't had in months. Not that he hadn't still been aroused when he knew what would come next. His body was used to Zoro, used to his weight and his heat and his length, and just for tonight, he would allow himself to feel that want again.

He kicked off his trousers as Zoro spat into his hand, and lay down on the grass in front of him. Then Zoro's fingers were touching him, reaching for him, pushing against him then inside him and he wanted it to be like all the times before, all the times Zoro had been above him, all the times they'd sweated together in the dark places of the broken ship that now stood almost empty just along the beach. He wanted Zoro to remind him of how good it had been when they were alone together, naked or as close to naked as they were willing to risk together, panting and gasping and feeling _alive_ together.

Then Zoro was on top of him, pushing in, wide and thick and far bigger than he remembered and Sanji wanted to embrace him, wanted to throw his arms around Zoro and hold him close.

But that wasn't what they were here for.

Zoro's body told him what his lips were keeping secret. This was business. Just a release with someone you knew was good for it. In all honesty either of them could have been fucking anyone in Water 7 and it would have been exactly the same.

Zoro was focused and gentle, too gentle because after all those lonely nights since, Sanji wanted it rough, desperately wanted it rough, wanted to claw and plead and beg with no mercy forthcoming. But that wasn't the sort of thing he could ask for now. Those days were gone, dried and shrivelled up and thrown away, lost forever. Zoro wouldn't even go into his underwear without him first providing access. The lines had been redrawn, the borders between them fortified with steel and iron and explosive devices.

The sex was pure mechanism. Zoro's hips moved, and Sanji could feel him slipping in and out, back and forth, but it was all hollow, all twisted and wrong and absent of whatever had been there before. Zoro wasn't even leaning on him, was barely even touching him at all, wouldn't even look at him, couldn't kiss him. Empty, it just felt empty, like they'd never been lovers at all.

Sanji dropped his arms back against the cool, lush grass and waited for Zoro to finish. When he did, it was silent, as though he hadn't gotten any enjoyment out of the process at all. He withdrew and zipped himself up immediately, standing quickly and going to fetch his katana.

Sanji felt raw and numb at the same time.

Zoro turned to him and looked as though he was about to say something, as though he thought maybe he aught to say something, anything, after that, then thought better of it and simply walked away, leaving Sanji alone again before he'd even re-dressed fully.

-b-

Zoro had wanted to hold him. He'd wanted to pull him in and kiss him from the moment Sanji had somehow agreed, to feel him and touch him like before, but to do so meant pursuing something he could never, ever have, and that was utterly foolish. The whole idea had been stupid to begin with, and to actually think he could get away with it and not re-awaken dormant feelings was absurd. And yet he'd done it anyway, not really understanding his own motives, not wanting to or caring to, just needing something he knew only Sanji could give him. He'd been a stupid, wretched bastard and had to live with the consequences.

And now he was stalking back to the hotel as quickly as possible, wondering what the fuck he'd just done to himself, hoping maybe he'd just run into a tavern or some people who needed the everloving shit beaten out of them and deciding to happily settle for whatever came first.

-b-

Eventually Sanji had given in and returned to the hotel. Finding no one in the room, he headed for the only other place he could think of – the roof. He'd found them there; Luffy sitting silently on top of a nearby building, Chopper looking out over the city through the gaps in the balcony, and Zoro, dozing against a wall. Nami had rushed in and told them about Iceberg's attempted assassination and then run off with Luffy, and Chopper had decided to come with him to look for Robin. Sanji was glad of that, with Chopper's tracking skills he stood a better chance of finding her in the bedlam below. Zoro had said nothing, so Sanji had asked him outright if he was coming. He declined, unable to make eye contact with Sanji the entire time he'd been there.

He supposed that really was that, then.


	20. Closure

**Chapter 20: Expect the unexpected**

Sanji stood against the ship's bannister on the foredeck, watching the rolling sea and singing under

his breath. For years he hadn't been able to recall the words that went with the tune from his

childhood, but they'd returned to him recently and now he couldn't get the shanty out of his head. It

was a good ditty; the chorus faster than the verse and with the kind of rhythm that made you want to

be singing it with a bunch of other men, all merry on rum and stamping your feet in time so hard the

floorboards shook.

He tapped the toe of his shoe against the strong, unyielding deck boards of the Sunny and felt a

smile slip across his lips. This was what he'd always dreamed of – sailing the high seas with the

wind in his hair and the sun on his face, travelling with good men and beautiful women, living to

chase his ideal. Franky had built them a damn good ship, and with a shipwright in tow they were

practically unstoppable. No more temporary fixings to the best of Usopp's ability now they had the

real deal. The guy might take a bit of getting used to, and Sanji wasn't sure he was fond of the way

Franky and Robin glanced at one another from time to time, but Franky was nakama; one of them.

_Raise your bottle and toast your rum_

_To the man who died at sea..._

It swam around in his head again, demanding his attention. Not all the words had come back to him,

just the first few verse-and-chorus couplets, but it seemed like the rest of it might be rattling around

in the dusty regions of his brain somewhere, so he was trying his best to remember - poking a stick

around in the back of his mind was bound to send something up.

But for the moment at least, nothing more was coming out. Why on earth he was remembering any

of it now was beyond him. He sighed and tossed his cigarette overboard, then returned to his new

dream of a kitchen (with the actual bona fide fridge lock – he'd barely been able to contain himself

at that) to fix the ladies some parfait as the younger idiots played carefree on the swing.

Not long after that Zoro had spotted the offering to the Sea God floating in the water, and their lives

had become complicated once again.

"Come on Nami, can't you take a bath by yourself?"

"Yeah, I want to hear more stories from Dr Hogback."

"Just shut up and follow me."

This was definitely, definitely, definitely not where he wanted to be. Not even close. Not even

within a million miles of where he wanted to be right now. Forget Not-Wanting-To-Explore-The-

Island disease, this was a full-fledged fever, a rampant plague, a blood-curdling, bone-shaking,

skin-peeling soon-to-be-pandemic, and he was definitely going to die. Definitely definitely

definitely.

The corridor stretched on endlessly ahead of them, dark and foreboding, the gloom seeming to

come alive and skitter away when disturbed by Nami's meagre candlelight, slithering into crevices

and behind paintings, waiting there until they'd passed and seeping free again. A shudder tripped up

Usopp's spine and he jolted round to stare into the shadows behind them as though he'd been poked

with a sharp stick. There was nothing to see of course, but a moment ago, right before he span

around there could have been, he was sure of it.

He hugged his arms and shivered, summoning every shred of his manliness just to keep himself

from rolling into a neat ball and finding a small hole to live in. This was not good, not good at all.

Sure, being inside the mansion of the weird, 'retarded-looking' famous doctor was a whole order of

magnitude better than being outside with the zombies and the undead and whatever the fuck else

was out there lurking, waiting, searching for the opportunity to creep up behind him and, and-

Anyway, inside was preferable to outside, but Usopp still had a fair few problems with inside as

well. Inside had long, creepy corridors and corners and dark places that could conceal murderers

and monsters and any number of things that could leap out and tear him limb-from-limb. Not that

any of this seemed to matter to Nami. So long as Nami got what she wanted, that was enough to

satisfy her. Usopp noticed her giving him a flat look and straightened up, suppressing his instinctive

shivering and putting on his best Courageous face. He was still a little embarrassed about earlier

when he'd gotten himself captured and mauled in the graveyard and she'd come to save him, then

found herself in trouble. That wasn't what was supposed to happen to Proud Men of the Sea.

Still, it was a pain in the ass to accompany her to the damn bathroom. Going down dark and scary

corridors in old and dark and scary mansions was only ever going to result in dark and scary things

happening, and Usopp wanted no part of it. But they were here now, and there was no way in hell

he was going back to the dining hall on his own, so he'd just have to deal with it.

Nami left them at the door and he and Chopper took an uncomfortable seat on the thread-bare rug

while she undressed and began to shower. He let his mind wander, just a little, at the sound of zips

undone and clothes pulled off.

"I want to see it..." Chopper said, dreamily.

"Eh? You? Seriously?"

"I'm not interested in naked human females," Chopper corrected him, making no comment on what

was obviously Usopp's current mental focus. "But I would love to see Dr. Hogback's research

room."

That was a relief, at least. Usopp settled back against the bathroom's glass door, hands behind his

head. "No thanks," he said. "Too scary. By the way Nami, why do we have to guard you? If you're

scared, just don't take a bath."

"I can't believe you guys don't want to bathe after being bitten by zombies." came her reply. He

could hear the spatter of the water as it ran off her body. "Disgusting." she added, for good measure.

"We'll get dirty again anyway," he pointed out. That was always the way things worked for them.

"We're leaving tonight," she said.

That was pretty much the worst idea ever. Usopp shoved the bathroom doors apart a little way to

complain at her properly, and found himself with a face-full of wash bucket. He hadn't even been

able to see anything through all the steam.

And then Nami confirmed something that had been lurking at the back of Usopp's mind, a

squirming, wriggling suspicion that he hadn't wanted to admit had even occurred to him: Inside and

Outside were, in fact, not that much different. The haunting pictures on every available wall. The

feeling of being watched everywhere you went. The stuffed, mounted trophies and odd patch-work

paintings; the general aura of unease every which way you turned in the damn place.

The mansion itself was filled with zombies.

The I-Can't-Go-On-Any-More disease was spreading rapidly; it was already up to his shaking

knees, and it wouldn't be long before it reached his chest, immobilising his heart, choking the air

from his lungs so he couldn't even-

And then Nami was screaming out for them, screaming out for him, and they were pushing their

way into the bathroom, prepared for horrors and apparitions of the worst kind, prepared for teeth

and claws and decaying bodies of rotten flesh.

What Usopp wasn't prepared for, however, was Nami's entirely naked form, stripped from head-totoe,

nothing obscured, nothing left to the imagination, every curve of her wonderful voluptuous

body quite clearly displayed. He did the only thing that seemed appropriate at the time, and bowed

deeply.

Sure, after that it had become clear the situation wasn't quite what he thought and it had turned out

there was somehow an invisible pervert in the room who'd had her pinned up against the wall, but

before all that...for a long, long fantastic moment he hadn't been the least bit concerned about the

direness of their general situation.

He knew full well she was going to extort him later.

Whatever was changing between them appeared to have run its course. It had been a while since

she'd caught even the merest hint of the swordsman gazing at the cook in such a way. Longer since

they'd each been mired in their own secret, guarded melancholy, suffering quietly when they

thought no one was looking; longer still since the body language of one would change favourably,

almost excitably, in the presence of the other.

Robin liked mysteries, but occasionally there would be those you couldn't get the bottom of, or

those whose getting to the bottom of would inevitably cause harm to the ones you cared about. This

was certainly one of the latter.

The new island would suffice as a replacement for her intellectual curiosity, she supposed.

Giant spidermonkey/monkeyspider in front of them, armoured zombies behind them, and yet

somehow, Robin only felt slightly concerned. Ever since the bridge at Enies Lobby she'd been

feeling this way when he was around...

"The power that cannot be measured by common sense...the power that makes the impossible

possible...the name of the hurricane that blows everything over is...love!"

"Indeed, that dog-penguin's crazy talk is just like Sanji-kun's..."

Even somehow reincarnated as the living dead, Sanji was still best at protecting Nami. That was just

the job of the hero, Usopp figured. It came built-in. Whatever that thing was, it most certainly had

the cook's same disdain for men.

Then everything took a turn for the even-weirder when a huge man-lion and some grotesque pink

hippo in a bridal gown arrived and began sudden and what appeared to be quite serious and intimate

marital relations on the grass behind them. The man-lion fired the pink hippo into the air. Then the

pink hippo was threatening to kill Nami for no fathomable reason at all and Usopp's head swam

from trying to understand what the hell was going on.

Nami appeared to be as surprised by this new development as he and Chopper were. "Me? But...but

I haven't even stolen anything yet!"

"I won't let you have Ab-sama!"

The dog-penguin wearing Sanji's voice and chivalrous attitude intervened again. At this point,

Usopp finally accepted that he was one of those individuals fated to live life as a stranger to both

logic and sense.

"The situation is the worst, we're blocked in every direction...we've got to do something quick...heh.

Will you leave it to me?"

Robin just smiled. "Do as you want. I'll try to handle it."

"Isn't that promising?" Franky said, setting himself up. Not so very long ago, Nico Robin had been

one of the worst people in the world. Now they were fighting together as nakama. Not only was he

fighting with her, but knowing he could rely on her. "Then, here we go,"

The bridge shattered around them, the sheer force of Franky's Coup de Burst fracturing the old

gothic structure as though it was made of nothing more substantial than brittle toffee, sending

zombies and giant spiders alike plummeting to the ground a hundred feet below.

"Now that's how it's done,"

"You're quite rough, aren't you?" he heard Robin quip, no sense of concern in her smooth, rich

voice. "Hundred Flowers;Wing!"

And then they were flying, he saved by her remarkable ability, but only for so long. A swift Strong

Right to the remains of the bridge would see them safe. As Robin's strength failed her and they

began to drop, he reeled his arm in. A force to his head broke his concentration and saw him facefirst

into the wall in a very un-super way.

Meanwhile, Robin alighted gracefully onto the ledge and took a moment to survey the carnage

below. "Well done." she told him.

"Hey you!" he fumed. "How dare you use me as a stepping-stone!"

"Now we can't get back,"

"Indee- Hey wait! Listen to other people when they're talking to you!"

Something clicked inside Franky's mind. This situation wasn't all bad...she might have made a fool

out of him, but the view he had now, of all the way to the top of Robin's fine, slender legs, of the

black lace panties that obscured what lay between them, kind of made it all worthwhile. He had to

shake his head free of those thoughts and back into the game.

There were other things to be worrying about right now.

The bride-hog-zombie (not, in fact, a hippo, upon closer inspection) was definitely persistent. They

had been on the run from the man-lion until he'd suffered a bolt from Nami's lightening rod, and

now they were on the run from the homicidal, sword-wielding, overdressed sausage instead.

"Wait! Burglar Cat!"

"Hey Nami, I think she's only after you!" Usopp gasped. "I think we should split into two groups,"

"You want to use me as bait? You're heartless!" she yelled, giving him a good smack to the head.

Nami packed one hell of a punch when she was pissed. Then Usopp realised she was starting to pull

away, leaving him and Chopper to the hog-bride to save herself.

A trip; a fall – and they were done for. It was all over. A glorious life brought to such a sudden,

brutal en-

And then the hog ran straight past them. Whatever it was that Nami had done it must have been

serious.

No matter how hard they tackled it, they couldn't get it to stop. Thrown away, things were looking

bad. Nami was sprawled over on the floor, the monstrous bride poised above her ready to strike, and

neither he nor Chopper were near enough to stop it.

"Wait! I'm actually a man!" Nami yelled.

An interesting foil. Somehow, it seemed to be working. Even Chopper was taken in by it. Usopp

recalled what had happened earlier in the evening; Nami's soft, naked skin glowing under the

candlelight.

One thing was for sure – she certainly wasn't a man.

They were pressed together tight, curled around one another, her head against Usopp's chest. His

heart was racing. It was their dire situation, she told herself. The situation and nothing more. At

least he couldn't hear her heart pounding away like it was about to beat itself free from her ribcage.

This wasn't exactly how she'd pictured getting closer to Usopp, but the confined space of whatever

it was they were inside now, something musty-smelling and stuffed and somehow mobile, was

providing the perfect excuse. Too bad the circumstances weren't better. Even 'slightly less terrifying'

would have sufficed.

It felt good, to be this way with him. She pressed in a little closer. Just a little closer.

Robin watched Franky go as he sauntered past, carrying a pair of impossibly large nun-chucks made

from a stone pillar. She watched him as he beat up the giant monkey-spider with them, smacking it

about as though it was a rag-doll. It was definitely impressive. Especially in such tight, small

underwear. Underwear that didn't leave much to the imagination. Not that much needed to be left to

Robin's imagination, seeing as she had some – quite literal – first-hand experience with what lay

beneath. Franky was impressive in more ways than one.

She was so lost in her recollections that she ended up getting herself strung up in a web of her own.

How embarrassing.

Luffy's shadow had just been stolen. They'd just seen their captain, the strongest man Usopp had

ever known, stripped of part of his soul with nothing grander than a large pair of shears. He aught to

have been far more terrified than he was at that point, but Nami's ample breasts pressed against his

arm were distracting him from it.

"Franky,"

"What? I'm not crying!" he wept as they pounded up the stairs and further into the heart of the

mansion, heading in the direction Luffy's coffin had taken.

"Why are you like this because of that question?"

"Shut up! I can't help it! Dammit I love that skeleton,"

Franky was the type of man who wore his heart on his sleeve, that much was apparent. Robin

smiled to herself. His personality was polar opposite to hers in many ways - he was loud, brash and

emotional, and that was just the start – but perhaps she quite liked him all the same. There was

something about him she found interesting. Alluring, even.

"Found them! Hey, I found them!" Usopp yelled across the ship at the top of his lungs. "All three

are in the dining room!"

All three were there, hung over the backs of chairs and positioned neatly in a row, faces decorated

with whatever the zombies had to hand – coat hangers, chopsticks, pegs, a boot and some ribbons.

The ribbons made an especially nice touch, Usopp thought.

But now came the problem of waking them. Shouting and shaking did nothing. Not even a hardfisted

beating from Franky was enough to rouse the unconscious men.

"I guess it can't be helped. Move away, I'll use my bazooka-"

"No, it's fine." Usopp interjected. He knew what they needed. "In this situation," he said, drawing

in a huge breath, "a beautiful lady swordsman just brought some meat!"

That had done the trick. It wasn't long before Luffy was diving into their food store and lamenting

the disappearance of their ample stock, Zoro was chastising himself for such a dishonourable

capture, and Sanji was wondering where Nami was. Ah, Nami...

"She was KIDNAPPED?!" Sanji yelled into Usopp's face. "Why didn't you chase her to the ends of

the earth?!"

Perhaps if he'd been someone like Sanji, that would have been possible. "Sorry!" he managed. "But

we didn't just let her go, things just worked out that way!"

"Who is he and where?" Sanji continued through gritted teeth. "I'll go right now and get her back!"

Of course. That was the hero's prerogative. He remembered his own words to the kidnapper, his

promise on the stairs to protect Nami on his honour, or his worth was nothing. But his promise was

just words, and Sanji's was a blood-pact etched into sea stone. "Wait! At least listen to the whole

story!"

Sanji backed off and let him speak. The rest of his story hadn't gone down any better than the first

part.

As they were preparing to leave and get back Nami and the shadows (and food), Usopp noticed

Zoro shoot Sanji a look. A momentary look of mixed irritation and tired resignation, as though

something about the cook's melodramatic overreaction was hitting him deeper than the rest of them.

Deeper, even, than it was hitting Usopp. Whatever lay behind that expression slipped quickly back

under the surface of Zoro's usual enigmatic scowl.

The swordsman was first off the boat, itching for a fight.

About to part ways, Sanji tasked with rescuing Nami, Usopp remembered there was something he'd

neglected to mention. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, but that Invisible Man saw Nami bathing."

Sanji turned incandescent.

"Don't excite him any more...he's about to transform into something," Zoro muttered beside him.

Probably best not to mention that he'd seen Nami in the nude himself, then.

"I didn't expect Usopp's negativity to become useful here," Zoro observed, as they pounded across

the bridge away from the ghost-girl and her bizarre menagerie.

"If he hadn't been there the could've been the end for us," Franky added.

The cook was running beside Zoro, ignoring their conversation, a strong aura of focus emanating

from him. "Hey," Sanji said, eventually. Zoro looked over at him. "I'll go from here to rescue Namisan."

"Gotcha! Do a good job!" Franky told him. Zoro said nothing.

"Of course! I'm love's Will-o'-the-wisp!"

Whatever that meant. Sanji ignited again and leapt from the bridge into the thick fog below,

bellowing out for Nami. If anyone could be trusted with the task of bringing her safely back, it was

the love-cook.

"He jumped..." Zoro muttered, watching him disappear over the lip. "Isn't this quite high up?"

"Well, when humans get adrenaline kicks, it's said pain is only felt later."

_He's going to spend his whole damn life chasing after women..._

The fall from the bridge had knocked the wind out of him, but that didn't matter. The floor shook

suddenly under his feet making him stumble, but that was nothing. Zombies were shrieking all

around him as he ran past, but he barely even noticed them. All petty, irrelevant, superfluous details

in the face of his burning love.

He would save her. He would find her, his flower, his mellorine; he would rescue her in the way

only he was capable of, and god help the invisible bastard who'd stolen her from him.

A calm settled on him as if from nowhere. A calm that crept in like a fine mist, almost meditative,

silencing other things and letting the quiet parts of his mind slip forward. Something was tugging on

his consciousness, like an important thing wilfully forgotten. His mother's song was there, threaded

through the mist, reaching for him again.

_He sailed from the harbour_

_Out to the ocean blue,_

_He smiled as he left her_

_To start his life anew_

_Oh watch the map and tow the line_

_A pirate's life is free,_

_Tip your glass and down the wine_

_For the man who died at sea_

Sanji shook his head free of it. This wasn't the time to lose focus. He was rounding on the chapel

now, rage stoked in his chest, hands balled into tight fists, shins burning for bone-shattering contact.

He unleashed his anger in a blood-curdling battle-cry.

"NAMI-SWAAAAAAAANNNN"

It was something they'd seen on the ship almost every day, so much so that he and Robin were

practically used to it. It was pretty much just part of the daily routine – the sniping and oneupmanship

that would inevitably lead to blows until someone (usually Nami) intervened.

Except that now, it wasn't their nakama they were watching try to tear chunks from one-another, it

was a pair of zombies who were odd-looking even by undead standards, re-animated by the

shadows of Sanji and Zoro. But for all intents and purposes, the scene was exactly the same. It was

as though they still remembered their feelings towards one another despite having lost everything

else.

"Even though they don't have their memories, those two just can't co-operate," Chopper said,

looking on.

The ground shook as Luffy's monstrous zombie burst through the wall of the mansion and stepped

clear into the courtyard, making the tower he and Franky and Brook were standing precariously on

top of lurch violently beneath them, sending loose roof tiles down shattering on the floor far below.

Zoro heard them shout something, but he was too pre-occupied with keeping his footing to listen.

Then Franky said something that made Zoro's stomach lurch up into his chest. "Look over there!

The guy that came out with him is the curly cook, right?"

Zoro's eyes scanned the courtyard hurriedly, looking for a flash of blond, a black suit, anything.

Sanji was down there on all-fours, picking himself free of some heavy rubble that had fallen on top

of him, not nearly far enough away from the giant zombie's heavy feet. Things didn't look good, and

Sanji didn't seem to be making any effort to move out of the way, despite all of Zoro's willing him

to. "What's that idiot cook doing?" he hissed.

The idiot cook was even more of an idiot than Zoro had realised, standing up to 'Luffy' and taking

on the rain of fists that had followed. The dust settled and he was still standing. Of course, the shitcook

wouldn't allow himself to get beaten so easily.

Well, that was a relief. Not that Zoro'd been worried about him or anything.

Sanji got off another well-aimed kick, but the behemoth was too fast, too large, too agile. They

watched in horror as Sanji was slammed into the mansion, caught as he was falling and held aloft

for inspection.

Zoro's heart was in his throat. "Oh shit, he's going to die!"

_Maybe,_

_Maybe I still..._

The blood roared in Sanji's ears. He was holding thinly onto a last thread of consciousness, only just

aware enough to realise he was hanging upside-down, clamped, squeezed by something hard and

cold and painful.

This had better not be how it ended. He hadn't even saved Nami-san yet.

_He relished the pirate's life_

_The fighting, rum and whoring,_

_Glad he hadn't taken a wife_

_And free to go adoring_

_Oh, stay the rudder and keep the course, boys_

_Nowhere I'd rather be,_

_Raise a toast and shout 'til you're hoarse_

_For the man who died at sea_

He wanted the things in his head to be quiet, now. Was that Zoro he could hear calling out to him in

the distance?

_Zoro..._

Then the world was spinning again, and everything went black.

Sanji drew in a deep breath of morning air, smiling into the sunlight and thinking about all the times

he'd done this and taken it for granted. Sometimes you couldn't appreciate something properly until

you'd almost lost it.

He patted himself, just to make sure he was fully materialised. Burning up in the sun and nearly

disappearing altogether was certainly something he didn't want to re-live. He sighed and glanced

around the crew, everyone sitting or standing around basking in the relieved glory of their latest

success – with the exception of Luffy, who was flat-out after his insane exertions.

They'd gotten pretty damn good at working together now, and with more members things were

running smoother than ever. There was always someone who had your back, always someone you

could rely on or that needed to rely on you. Even he and Zoro had their moments. The swordsman

seemed quite partial to being hefted into the air by Sanji's high-speed kick.

There had been something new about Zoro during that battle, though. Something which seemed to

flourish in Luffy's absence. One of the great things about their crew was that there was no

complicated command structure or excessive hierarchy – each of them had their own talents and

uses, and deployed them to maximum effect. They had come to depend on each other equally, as it

should be.

Usually, Zoro would take the role of Luffy's stoic right-hand-man, stepping in where he was needed,

covering ground his captain couldn't. But when they were fighting Odz, Luffy hadn't been there and

Zoro had slipped effortlessly, seamlessly into his commanding role. He had been both General and

grand tactician, and they had been his troops, following his lead, listening eagerly to his

suggestions.

Sanji had always known how smart Zoro was – and was perhaps a little jealous of his astuteness –

but he usually kept that part of himself blanketed away, perhaps thinking his talents unnecessary in

the face of Luffy's pure might and grim determination. While they had been trying to take down

Luffy's zombie, Zoro had already been planning the next steps, plotting the path to its defeat. He'd

already known they'd need a bucket-load of salt, he'd already accounted for the difficulties Luffy

would have with his opponents not fighting him fairly and had factored them into his plan. For

Zoro, this hadn't just been a game, just a chance to flex their muscles vicariously on their own

captain. Odz was a tactical point; one that was necessary to overcome in order to provide Luffy with

what he needed to beat Moria, so they could all get their shadows back in time for dawn.

Still, though, only just.

Sanji glanced over at him; perching on the opposite side of the group, exhausted but surrounded by

an air of accomplishment.

There had been a point during the fight where it had happened again – where they'd looked at oneanother

and that had been enough to reach an understanding. His feet still stung a little from kicking

those huge building cross-sections, though. Not that he would let it show, of course.

"That's right...I...I forgot something really important!" Nami wailed, hand over her mouth.

"What's wrong?" Robin asked.

"It's really serious!"

"I see...so my greatest fears have become reality,"

"So it would seem." A voice rich like silk and laced with gentle threat, coming from on top of the

broken pillar behind them. A huge man sat up there, holding a book across his lap and speaking to a

den-den mushi nestled in his giant palm.

"He's here," Nami said, shrinking back against Usopp. "Everyone, listen to me. During the fight I

forgot to tell you, but...on this island...there's another Shichibukai!"

"We cannot afford to let anyone know of Moria's defeat. This is a direct order from the World

Government; obliterate everyone on that island."

"Too easy."

"This is terrible! Considering we just beat Moria," Chopper whined, shivering.

But Zoro was already up, already stepping forward, hand already unsheathing his katana. "You guys

stand back," he grunted. "I'll do this." He stood between them and the Shichibukai, shoulders

slumped and breathing hard, but prepared nonetheless.

"Be careful," Nami warned him. "He has some kind of ability."

The man above them began to remove his gloves.

"Pirate Hunter Zoro," he said. "Let's start with you."


	21. PDF available

Hi everyone, I thought it might be nice to have these chapters in a nice, easy-to-read package.

CLRE is now available in handy PDF format, just go to the website below to download:

www. Mediafire. Com/ ?61x6ej5c9g0wh6e (without spaces)

Happy New Year!


	22. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20: Expect the unexpected**

Sanji stood against the ship's bannister on the foredeck, watching the rolling sea and singing under

his breath. For years he hadn't been able to recall the words that went with the tune from his

childhood, but they'd returned to him recently and now he couldn't get the shanty out of his head. It

was a good ditty; the chorus faster than the verse and with the kind of rhythm that made you want to

be singing it with a bunch of other men, all merry on rum and stamping your feet in time so hard the

floorboards shook.

He tapped the toe of his shoe against the strong, unyielding deck boards of the Sunny and felt a

smile slip across his lips. This was what he'd always dreamed of – sailing the high seas with the

wind in his hair and the sun on his face, travelling with good men and beautiful women, living to

chase his ideal. Franky had built them a damn good ship, and with a shipwright in tow they were

practically unstoppable. No more temporary fixings to the best of Usopp's ability now they had the

real deal. The guy might take a bit of getting used to, and Sanji wasn't sure he was fond of the way

Franky and Robin glanced at one another from time to time, but Franky was nakama; one of them.

_Raise your bottle and toast your rum_

_To the man who died at sea..._

It swam around in his head again, demanding his attention. Not all the words had come back to him,

just the first few verse-and-chorus couplets, but it seemed like the rest of it might be rattling around

in the dusty regions of his brain somewhere, so he was trying his best to remember - poking a stick

around in the back of his mind was bound to send something up.

But for the moment at least, nothing more was coming out. Why on earth he was remembering any

of it now was beyond him. He sighed and tossed his cigarette overboard, then returned to his new

dream of a kitchen (with the actual bona fide fridge lock – he'd barely been able to contain himself

at that) to fix the ladies some parfait as the younger idiots played carefree on the swing.

Not long after that Zoro had spotted the offering to the Sea God floating in the water, and their lives

had become complicated once again.

"Come on Nami, can't you take a bath by yourself?"

"Yeah, I want to hear more stories from Dr Hogback."

"Just shut up and follow me."

This was definitely, definitely, definitely not where he wanted to be. Not even close. Not even

within a million miles of where he wanted to be right now. Forget Not-Wanting-To-Explore-The-

Island disease, this was a full-fledged fever, a rampant plague, a blood-curdling, bone-shaking,

skin-peeling soon-to-be-pandemic, and he was definitely going to die. Definitely definitely

definitely.

The corridor stretched on endlessly ahead of them, dark and foreboding, the gloom seeming to

come alive and skitter away when disturbed by Nami's meagre candlelight, slithering into crevices

and behind paintings, waiting there until they'd passed and seeping free again. A shudder tripped up

Usopp's spine and he jolted round to stare into the shadows behind them as though he'd been poked

with a sharp stick. There was nothing to see of course, but a moment ago, right before he span

around there could have been, he was sure of it.

He hugged his arms and shivered, summoning every shred of his manliness just to keep himself

from rolling into a neat ball and finding a small hole to live in. This was not good, not good at all.

Sure, being inside the mansion of the weird, 'retarded-looking' famous doctor was a whole order of

magnitude better than being outside with the zombies and the undead and whatever the fuck else

was out there lurking, waiting, searching for the opportunity to creep up behind him and, and-

Anyway, inside was preferable to outside, but Usopp still had a fair few problems with inside as

well. Inside had long, creepy corridors and corners and dark places that could conceal murderers

and monsters and any number of things that could leap out and tear him limb-from-limb. Not that

any of this seemed to matter to Nami. So long as Nami got what she wanted, that was enough to

satisfy her. Usopp noticed her giving him a flat look and straightened up, suppressing his instinctive

shivering and putting on his best Courageous face. He was still a little embarrassed about earlier

when he'd gotten himself captured and mauled in the graveyard and she'd come to save him, then

found herself in trouble. That wasn't what was supposed to happen to Proud Men of the Sea.

Still, it was a pain in the ass to accompany her to the damn bathroom. Going down dark and scary

corridors in old and dark and scary mansions was only ever going to result in dark and scary things

happening, and Usopp wanted no part of it. But they were here now, and there was no way in hell

he was going back to the dining hall on his own, so he'd just have to deal with it.

Nami left them at the door and he and Chopper took an uncomfortable seat on the thread-bare rug

while she undressed and began to shower. He let his mind wander, just a little, at the sound of zips

undone and clothes pulled off.

"I want to see it..." Chopper said, dreamily.

"Eh? You? Seriously?"

"I'm not interested in naked human females," Chopper corrected him, making no comment on what

was obviously Usopp's current mental focus. "But I would love to see Dr. Hogback's research

room."

That was a relief, at least. Usopp settled back against the bathroom's glass door, hands behind his

head. "No thanks," he said. "Too scary. By the way Nami, why do we have to guard you? If you're

scared, just don't take a bath."

"I can't believe you guys don't want to bathe after being bitten by zombies." came her reply. He

could hear the spatter of the water as it ran off her body. "Disgusting." she added, for good measure.

"We'll get dirty again anyway," he pointed out. That was always the way things worked for them.

"We're leaving tonight," she said.

That was pretty much the worst idea ever. Usopp shoved the bathroom doors apart a little way to

complain at her properly, and found himself with a face-full of wash bucket. He hadn't even been

able to see anything through all the steam.

And then Nami confirmed something that had been lurking at the back of Usopp's mind, a

squirming, wriggling suspicion that he hadn't wanted to admit had even occurred to him: Inside and

Outside were, in fact, not that much different. The haunting pictures on every available wall. The

feeling of being watched everywhere you went. The stuffed, mounted trophies and odd patch-work

paintings; the general aura of unease every which way you turned in the damn place.

The mansion itself was filled with zombies.

The I-Can't-Go-On-Any-More disease was spreading rapidly; it was already up to his shaking

knees, and it wouldn't be long before it reached his chest, immobilising his heart, choking the air

from his lungs so he couldn't even-

And then Nami was screaming out for them, screaming out for him, and they were pushing their

way into the bathroom, prepared for horrors and apparitions of the worst kind, prepared for teeth

and claws and decaying bodies of rotten flesh.

What Usopp wasn't prepared for, however, was Nami's entirely naked form, stripped from head-totoe,

nothing obscured, nothing left to the imagination, every curve of her wonderful voluptuous

body quite clearly displayed. He did the only thing that seemed appropriate at the time, and bowed

deeply.

Sure, after that it had become clear the situation wasn't quite what he thought and it had turned out

there was somehow an invisible pervert in the room who'd had her pinned up against the wall, but

before all that...for a long, long fantastic moment he hadn't been the least bit concerned about the

direness of their general situation.

He knew full well she was going to extort him later.

Whatever was changing between them appeared to have run its course. It had been a while since

she'd caught even the merest hint of the swordsman gazing at the cook in such a way. Longer since

they'd each been mired in their own secret, guarded melancholy, suffering quietly when they

thought no one was looking; longer still since the body language of one would change favourably,

almost excitably, in the presence of the other.

Robin liked mysteries, but occasionally there would be those you couldn't get the bottom of, or

those whose getting to the bottom of would inevitably cause harm to the ones you cared about. This

was certainly one of the latter.

The new island would suffice as a replacement for her intellectual curiosity, she supposed.

Giant spidermonkey/monkeyspider in front of them, armoured zombies behind them, and yet

somehow, Robin only felt slightly concerned. Ever since the bridge at Enies Lobby she'd been

feeling this way when he was around...

"The power that cannot be measured by common sense...the power that makes the impossible

possible...the name of the hurricane that blows everything over is...love!"

"Indeed, that dog-penguin's crazy talk is just like Sanji-kun's..."

Even somehow reincarnated as the living dead, Sanji was still best at protecting Nami. That was just

the job of the hero, Usopp figured. It came built-in. Whatever that thing was, it most certainly had

the cook's same disdain for men.

Then everything took a turn for the even-weirder when a huge man-lion and some grotesque pink

hippo in a bridal gown arrived and began sudden and what appeared to be quite serious and intimate

marital relations on the grass behind them. The man-lion fired the pink hippo into the air. Then the

pink hippo was threatening to kill Nami for no fathomable reason at all and Usopp's head swam

from trying to understand what the hell was going on.

Nami appeared to be as surprised by this new development as he and Chopper were. "Me? But...but

I haven't even stolen anything yet!"

"I won't let you have Ab-sama!"

The dog-penguin wearing Sanji's voice and chivalrous attitude intervened again. At this point,

Usopp finally accepted that he was one of those individuals fated to live life as a stranger to both

logic and sense.

"The situation is the worst, we're blocked in every direction...we've got to do something quick...heh.

Will you leave it to me?"

Robin just smiled. "Do as you want. I'll try to handle it."

"Isn't that promising?" Franky said, setting himself up. Not so very long ago, Nico Robin had been

one of the worst people in the world. Now they were fighting together as nakama. Not only was he

fighting with her, but knowing he could rely on her. "Then, here we go,"

The bridge shattered around them, the sheer force of Franky's Coup de Burst fracturing the old

gothic structure as though it was made of nothing more substantial than brittle toffee, sending

zombies and giant spiders alike plummeting to the ground a hundred feet below.

"Now that's how it's done,"

"You're quite rough, aren't you?" he heard Robin quip, no sense of concern in her smooth, rich

voice. "Hundred Flowers;Wing!"

And then they were flying, he saved by her remarkable ability, but only for so long. A swift Strong

Right to the remains of the bridge would see them safe. As Robin's strength failed her and they

began to drop, he reeled his arm in. A force to his head broke his concentration and saw him facefirst

into the wall in a very un-super way.

Meanwhile, Robin alighted gracefully onto the ledge and took a moment to survey the carnage

below. "Well done." she told him.

"Hey you!" he fumed. "How dare you use me as a stepping-stone!"

"Now we can't get back,"

"Indee- Hey wait! Listen to other people when they're talking to you!"

Something clicked inside Franky's mind. This situation wasn't all bad...she might have made a fool

out of him, but the view he had now, of all the way to the top of Robin's fine, slender legs, of the

black lace panties that obscured what lay between them, kind of made it all worthwhile. He had to

shake his head free of those thoughts and back into the game.

There were other things to be worrying about right now.

The bride-hog-zombie (not, in fact, a hippo, upon closer inspection) was definitely persistent. They

had been on the run from the man-lion until he'd suffered a bolt from Nami's lightening rod, and

now they were on the run from the homicidal, sword-wielding, overdressed sausage instead.

"Wait! Burglar Cat!"

"Hey Nami, I think she's only after you!" Usopp gasped. "I think we should split into two groups,"

"You want to use me as bait? You're heartless!" she yelled, giving him a good smack to the head.

Nami packed one hell of a punch when she was pissed. Then Usopp realised she was starting to pull

away, leaving him and Chopper to the hog-bride to save herself.

A trip; a fall – and they were done for. It was all over. A glorious life brought to such a sudden,

brutal en-

And then the hog ran straight past them. Whatever it was that Nami had done it must have been

serious.

No matter how hard they tackled it, they couldn't get it to stop. Thrown away, things were looking

bad. Nami was sprawled over on the floor, the monstrous bride poised above her ready to strike, and

neither he nor Chopper were near enough to stop it.

"Wait! I'm actually a man!" Nami yelled.

An interesting foil. Somehow, it seemed to be working. Even Chopper was taken in by it. Usopp

recalled what had happened earlier in the evening; Nami's soft, naked skin glowing under the

candlelight.

One thing was for sure – she certainly wasn't a man.

They were pressed together tight, curled around one another, her head against Usopp's chest. His

heart was racing. It was their dire situation, she told herself. The situation and nothing more. At

least he couldn't hear her heart pounding away like it was about to beat itself free from her ribcage.

This wasn't exactly how she'd pictured getting closer to Usopp, but the confined space of whatever

it was they were inside now, something musty-smelling and stuffed and somehow mobile, was

providing the perfect excuse. Too bad the circumstances weren't better. Even 'slightly less terrifying'

would have sufficed.

It felt good, to be this way with him. She pressed in a little closer. Just a little closer.

Robin watched Franky go as he sauntered past, carrying a pair of impossibly large nun-chucks made

from a stone pillar. She watched him as he beat up the giant monkey-spider with them, smacking it

about as though it was a rag-doll. It was definitely impressive. Especially in such tight, small

underwear. Underwear that didn't leave much to the imagination. Not that much needed to be left to

Robin's imagination, seeing as she had some – quite literal – first-hand experience with what lay

beneath. Franky was impressive in more ways than one.

She was so lost in her recollections that she ended up getting herself strung up in a web of her own.

How embarrassing.

Luffy's shadow had just been stolen. They'd just seen their captain, the strongest man Usopp had

ever known, stripped of part of his soul with nothing grander than a large pair of shears. He aught to

have been far more terrified than he was at that point, but Nami's ample breasts pressed against his

arm were distracting him from it.

"Franky,"

"What? I'm not crying!" he wept as they pounded up the stairs and further into the heart of the

mansion, heading in the direction Luffy's coffin had taken.

"Why are you like this because of that question?"

"Shut up! I can't help it! Dammit I love that skeleton,"

Franky was the type of man who wore his heart on his sleeve, that much was apparent. Robin

smiled to herself. His personality was polar opposite to hers in many ways - he was loud, brash and

emotional, and that was just the start – but perhaps she quite liked him all the same. There was

something about him she found interesting. Alluring, even.

"Found them! Hey, I found them!" Usopp yelled across the ship at the top of his lungs. "All three

are in the dining room!"

All three were there, hung over the backs of chairs and positioned neatly in a row, faces decorated

with whatever the zombies had to hand – coat hangers, chopsticks, pegs, a boot and some ribbons.

The ribbons made an especially nice touch, Usopp thought.

But now came the problem of waking them. Shouting and shaking did nothing. Not even a hardfisted

beating from Franky was enough to rouse the unconscious men.

"I guess it can't be helped. Move away, I'll use my bazooka-"

"No, it's fine." Usopp interjected. He knew what they needed. "In this situation," he said, drawing

in a huge breath, "a beautiful lady swordsman just brought some meat!"

That had done the trick. It wasn't long before Luffy was diving into their food store and lamenting

the disappearance of their ample stock, Zoro was chastising himself for such a dishonourable

capture, and Sanji was wondering where Nami was. Ah, Nami...

"She was KIDNAPPED?!" Sanji yelled into Usopp's face. "Why didn't you chase her to the ends of

the earth?!"

Perhaps if he'd been someone like Sanji, that would have been possible. "Sorry!" he managed. "But

we didn't just let her go, things just worked out that way!"

"Who is he and where?" Sanji continued through gritted teeth. "I'll go right now and get her back!"

Of course. That was the hero's prerogative. He remembered his own words to the kidnapper, his

promise on the stairs to protect Nami on his honour, or his worth was nothing. But his promise was

just words, and Sanji's was a blood-pact etched into sea stone. "Wait! At least listen to the whole

story!"

Sanji backed off and let him speak. The rest of his story hadn't gone down any better than the first

part.

As they were preparing to leave and get back Nami and the shadows (and food), Usopp noticed

Zoro shoot Sanji a look. A momentary look of mixed irritation and tired resignation, as though

something about the cook's melodramatic overreaction was hitting him deeper than the rest of them.

Deeper, even, than it was hitting Usopp. Whatever lay behind that expression slipped quickly back

under the surface of Zoro's usual enigmatic scowl.

The swordsman was first off the boat, itching for a fight.

About to part ways, Sanji tasked with rescuing Nami, Usopp remembered there was something he'd

neglected to mention. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, but that Invisible Man saw Nami bathing."

Sanji turned incandescent.

"Don't excite him any more...he's about to transform into something," Zoro muttered beside him.

Probably best not to mention that he'd seen Nami in the nude himself, then.

"I didn't expect Usopp's negativity to become useful here," Zoro observed, as they pounded across

the bridge away from the ghost-girl and her bizarre menagerie.

"If he hadn't been there the could've been the end for us," Franky added.

The cook was running beside Zoro, ignoring their conversation, a strong aura of focus emanating

from him. "Hey," Sanji said, eventually. Zoro looked over at him. "I'll go from here to rescue Namisan."

"Gotcha! Do a good job!" Franky told him. Zoro said nothing.

"Of course! I'm love's Will-o'-the-wisp!"

Whatever that meant. Sanji ignited again and leapt from the bridge into the thick fog below,

bellowing out for Nami. If anyone could be trusted with the task of bringing her safely back, it was

the love-cook.

"He jumped..." Zoro muttered, watching him disappear over the lip. "Isn't this quite high up?"

"Well, when humans get adrenaline kicks, it's said pain is only felt later."

_He's going to spend his whole damn life chasing after women..._

The fall from the bridge had knocked the wind out of him, but that didn't matter. The floor shook

suddenly under his feet making him stumble, but that was nothing. Zombies were shrieking all

around him as he ran past, but he barely even noticed them. All petty, irrelevant, superfluous details

in the face of his burning love.

He would save her. He would find her, his flower, his mellorine; he would rescue her in the way

only he was capable of, and god help the invisible bastard who'd stolen her from him.

A calm settled on him as if from nowhere. A calm that crept in like a fine mist, almost meditative,

silencing other things and letting the quiet parts of his mind slip forward. Something was tugging on

his consciousness, like an important thing wilfully forgotten. His mother's song was there, threaded

through the mist, reaching for him again.

_He sailed from the harbour_

_Out to the ocean blue,_

_He smiled as he left her_

_To start his life anew_

_Oh watch the map and tow the line_

_A pirate's life is free,_

_Tip your glass and down the wine_

_For the man who died at sea_

Sanji shook his head free of it. This wasn't the time to lose focus. He was rounding on the chapel

now, rage stoked in his chest, hands balled into tight fists, shins burning for bone-shattering contact.

He unleashed his anger in a blood-curdling battle-cry.

"NAMI-SWAAAAAAAANNNN"

It was something they'd seen on the ship almost every day, so much so that he and Robin were

practically used to it. It was pretty much just part of the daily routine – the sniping and oneupmanship

that would inevitably lead to blows until someone (usually Nami) intervened.

Except that now, it wasn't their nakama they were watching try to tear chunks from one-another, it

was a pair of zombies who were odd-looking even by undead standards, re-animated by the

shadows of Sanji and Zoro. But for all intents and purposes, the scene was exactly the same. It was

as though they still remembered their feelings towards one another despite having lost everything

else.

"Even though they don't have their memories, those two just can't co-operate," Chopper said,

looking on.

The ground shook as Luffy's monstrous zombie burst through the wall of the mansion and stepped

clear into the courtyard, making the tower he and Franky and Brook were standing precariously on

top of lurch violently beneath them, sending loose roof tiles down shattering on the floor far below.

Zoro heard them shout something, but he was too pre-occupied with keeping his footing to listen.

Then Franky said something that made Zoro's stomach lurch up into his chest. "Look over there!

The guy that came out with him is the curly cook, right?"

Zoro's eyes scanned the courtyard hurriedly, looking for a flash of blond, a black suit, anything.

Sanji was down there on all-fours, picking himself free of some heavy rubble that had fallen on top

of him, not nearly far enough away from the giant zombie's heavy feet. Things didn't look good, and

Sanji didn't seem to be making any effort to move out of the way, despite all of Zoro's willing him

to. "What's that idiot cook doing?" he hissed.

The idiot cook was even more of an idiot than Zoro had realised, standing up to 'Luffy' and taking

on the rain of fists that had followed. The dust settled and he was still standing. Of course, the shitcook

wouldn't allow himself to get beaten so easily.

Well, that was a relief. Not that Zoro'd been worried about him or anything.

Sanji got off another well-aimed kick, but the behemoth was too fast, too large, too agile. They

watched in horror as Sanji was slammed into the mansion, caught as he was falling and held aloft

for inspection.

Zoro's heart was in his throat. "Oh shit, he's going to die!"

_Maybe,_

_Maybe I still..._

The blood roared in Sanji's ears. He was holding thinly onto a last thread of consciousness, only just

aware enough to realise he was hanging upside-down, clamped, squeezed by something hard and

cold and painful.

This had better not be how it ended. He hadn't even saved Nami-san yet.

_He relished the pirate's life_

_The fighting, rum and whoring,_

_Glad he hadn't taken a wife_

_And free to go adoring_

_Oh, stay the rudder and keep the course, boys_

_Nowhere I'd rather be,_

_Raise a toast and shout 'til you're hoarse_

_For the man who died at sea_

He wanted the things in his head to be quiet, now. Was that Zoro he could hear calling out to him in

the distance?

_Zoro..._

Then the world was spinning again, and everything went black.

Sanji drew in a deep breath of morning air, smiling into the sunlight and thinking about all the times

he'd done this and taken it for granted. Sometimes you couldn't appreciate something properly until

you'd almost lost it.

He patted himself, just to make sure he was fully materialised. Burning up in the sun and nearly

disappearing altogether was certainly something he didn't want to re-live. He sighed and glanced

around the crew, everyone sitting or standing around basking in the relieved glory of their latest

success – with the exception of Luffy, who was flat-out after his insane exertions.

They'd gotten pretty damn good at working together now, and with more members things were

running smoother than ever. There was always someone who had your back, always someone you

could rely on or that needed to rely on you. Even he and Zoro had their moments. The swordsman

seemed quite partial to being hefted into the air by Sanji's high-speed kick.

There had been something new about Zoro during that battle, though. Something which seemed to

flourish in Luffy's absence. One of the great things about their crew was that there was no

complicated command structure or excessive hierarchy – each of them had their own talents and

uses, and deployed them to maximum effect. They had come to depend on each other equally, as it

should be.

Usually, Zoro would take the role of Luffy's stoic right-hand-man, stepping in where he was needed,

covering ground his captain couldn't. But when they were fighting Odz, Luffy hadn't been there and

Zoro had slipped effortlessly, seamlessly into his commanding role. He had been both General and

grand tactician, and they had been his troops, following his lead, listening eagerly to his

suggestions.

Sanji had always known how smart Zoro was – and was perhaps a little jealous of his astuteness –

but he usually kept that part of himself blanketed away, perhaps thinking his talents unnecessary in

the face of Luffy's pure might and grim determination. While they had been trying to take down

Luffy's zombie, Zoro had already been planning the next steps, plotting the path to its defeat. He'd

already known they'd need a bucket-load of salt, he'd already accounted for the difficulties Luffy

would have with his opponents not fighting him fairly and had factored them into his plan. For

Zoro, this hadn't just been a game, just a chance to flex their muscles vicariously on their own

captain. Odz was a tactical point; one that was necessary to overcome in order to provide Luffy with

what he needed to beat Moria, so they could all get their shadows back in time for dawn.

Still, though, only just.

Sanji glanced over at him; perching on the opposite side of the group, exhausted but surrounded by

an air of accomplishment.

There had been a point during the fight where it had happened again – where they'd looked at oneanother

and that had been enough to reach an understanding. His feet still stung a little from kicking

those huge building cross-sections, though. Not that he would let it show, of course.

"That's right...I...I forgot something really important!" Nami wailed, hand over her mouth.

"What's wrong?" Robin asked.

"It's really serious!"

"I see...so my greatest fears have become reality,"

"So it would seem." A voice rich like silk and laced with gentle threat, coming from on top of the

broken pillar behind them. A huge man sat up there, holding a book across his lap and speaking to a

den-den mushi nestled in his giant palm.

"He's here," Nami said, shrinking back against Usopp. "Everyone, listen to me. During the fight I

forgot to tell you, but...on this island...there's another Shichibukai!"

"We cannot afford to let anyone know of Moria's defeat. This is a direct order from the World

Government; obliterate everyone on that island."

"Too easy."

"This is terrible! Considering we just beat Moria," Chopper whined, shivering.

But Zoro was already up, already stepping forward, hand already unsheathing his katana. "You guys

stand back," he grunted. "I'll do this." He stood between them and the Shichibukai, shoulders

slumped and breathing hard, but prepared nonetheless.

"Be careful," Nami warned him. "He has some kind of ability."

The man above them began to remove his gloves.

"Pirate Hunter Zoro," he said. "Let's start with you."


	23. Chapter 21

Ch 21. Home is where the heart is

"_Did you get one yet?"_

"_No, they're too fast for me!"_

"_Honestly, you're useless Zoro!"_

"_Sh...shut up!"_

"_Over there, look! Sneak up on it slowly so it doesn't see you!"_

"_I get it already!"_

"_Be careful you don't crush it, you have to do it gently. Cup your hands like this,"_

"_I caught it! Kuina I got one!"_

"_Let me see!"_

"_No I can't, it'll get away,"_

"_Just open your hands slowly, let me peek."_

"_It feels weird,"_

"_Oh, it's a pretty one..."_

"_Wh...what do I do now? Hey, don't laugh!"_

"_Now you have to let it go, Zoro."_

Zoro seemed like a child before the Shichibukai. The man towered ominously above him, expression inscrutable. They eyed one-another up as Zoro prepared a stance, widening his footing on the uneven rubble.

"Oi Zoro!" Usopp yelled. "Hold up! Don't be so damn reckless! Aren't your bones crumbling apart?"

But Zoro was unmoving. Didn't falter, didn't turn around. "When the world shoves you around, you've just gotta stand up and shove back." He said. "It isn't like you can do anything just by giving excuses. If I die, then I am just a man who can only make it this far."

Zoro was fast; movements quicker than Usopp's eyes could follow. But the Shichibukai was faster. Zoro's attack cleaved a block of stone in two, but nothing more.

The bear-looking Shichibukai was above him, as if from nowhere, arms out, palms flat like they'd been when he'd cut a swathe through the other pirate crew. Zoro realised his complacency too late, and jerked a shocked glance upward just in time to see the man's hand descending on him. He forced his body to lurch sideways, only just rolling out of the way. "What the hell," he grunted, heart pounding, staring at the hole in the floor where he'd been not two seconds ago. This guy was fucking dangerous.

The bear wasted no time in firing his palm at Zoro again. Quick reflexes got him out of the path of whatever the hell it was the guy was shooting at him for the most part, but his reactions were dulled, his movements too sluggish, and it clipped him on the forehead before pounding straight through the rubble behind him as though it were a hot knife through butter. Had he dodged a split second later...well, that didn't bear thinking about.

He put a hand to his head to check it hadn't bored a hole through his skull. Luckily the damage wasn't too bad, just some bruising and the lancing pain he'd been left with. Zoro pulled himself together, knowing already how this would end if he didn't think of something spectacular, and launched another attack. His muscles screamed with the effort.

The bear was unmoving except for his hand, lifted and blocking Zoro's cut. Zoro simply stared in disbelief as the blow bounced right off him, erupting amongst a group of bystanders instead.

Zoro straightened up, frowning. "So that's your ability, huh?"

The man's calmness was worrying. Zoro was facing someone who had already concluded he could beat everyone gathered around him. "The power to deflect everything." The bear explained, in that syrup-soft voice. "I ate the Nikyu-Nukyu no mi – I am a paw-man."

Zoro's mind was wheeling as fast as he could make it. There had to be a way. Things had seemed impossible with Moria and Odz until-

Until Luffy had showed up, dosed up with shadows or whatever, and beaten the living shit out of them. Zoro glanced over at their captain, unconscious amongst the wreckage of the felled mansion. That wasn't going to happen this time. Zoro was on his own, and he was going to have to think of something.

He'd been so caught up in his thoughts the crew's conversation had slipped by him, and now he regained his focus only to watch Franky get slammed into the rubble.

"What kind of move was that?" Nami breathed.

Robin had a theory. "Perhaps he is capable of deflecting even the air itself, a normal cannon wouldn't affect Franky."

"I call it the 'Pad-Cannon'. By repelling air at the speed of light, I make a shockwave that can pierce through anything."

Not good. Powerful _and_ fast made for a tricky combination. Perhaps Zoro could beat him, could summon the strength from somewhere, no matter how much damage it did him in the meantime if he could land a good, hard, precise hit on a weak spot. The crew would look after him. He'd just have to go all out and entrust himself to them.

This would be tough, but Zoro was prepared for the worst. A weakness...somewhere there must be a weakness...

The Shichibukai was winding up to something. From this point on, Zoro knew there would be no second chances. He unsheathed his katana.

A sudden barrage of compressed air bubbles had him diving, dodging, twisting this way and that just to stay alive, lungs screaming, muscles straining until finally, _finally_, he was close enough to attack. He swung as hard as he could for the bear's neck.

But the palms got there first.

_Useless_.

They repelled him with the force of the cut, sending him tumbling hard through the fallen stonework littering the ground. This was bad. He was tired, broken. He had to stand up, had to face his opponent, had to find a way and cut him down. They were all depending on him.

That last attempt had gone badly wrong and he needed to think faster, act smarter, move quicker – he needed for his head not to be full of fog and for his body to listen, but he didn't have either. "Bastard," he managed, doubled over on all fours, trying to summon enough strength to simply stand.

And then Usopp was screaming. Screaming at him. "Zoro! Behind you! Run away!"

Too slow. Too weak.

No second chances.

"That's as far as you go!" The cook's voice. Thick with underlying worry. That couldn't be good.

Zoro heard the impact. Sanji had managed to land what sounded like a full-force hit, when Zoro hadn't hit once yet. Fucking annoying bastard, intruding needlessly, making it seem like Zoro needed his help. "Bastard, don't butt in-" he began, eyes widening as he realised the state the cook was in, clutching his leg as he fell, face twisted in pain. Zoro watched him in silent horror as he writhed around on the floor. Bone bruised or shattered, most likely.

Sanji had gotten a clear kick, and it didn't even seem to have had any effect at all.

"Black-Leg Sanji," the bear said, rubbing his chin. "that must be you."

"Why the hell is he so hard? Is his face made from steel?" Sanji strained.

Usopp made a vain attempt to help, but his _Fire-bird Star_ was just as ineffective as both their attacks had been.

"As I figured, getting rid of you in your injured states just isn't fair. My orders were to destroy all of you, but..." The Shichibukai held his hands aloft, sending pulses from his palms into the air above his head. A sort of bubble began to form between his hands. Worryingly, it was getting smaller with each pulse. Compacting.

Zoro and the cook looked on as he balled his hands around the compressed packet of air he'd made.

"I will spare your lives," the bear said. Zoro was already listening for the 'but' bound to follow such a statement. "if, in exchange, you give me the head of Strawhat Luffy. If I return with his head, the Government will not complain."

There was only one response to that.

"That's a shame..." the bear sighed, opening his hands and letting the bubble free. It floated out from him a short way, a tiny, unassuming point of light left drifting in the air.

And then it detonated.

The Shichibukai's words echoed around Zoro's head, louder than the blood raging through him, louder than the ringing in his ears from the deafening explosion.

_If you give me the head of Strawhat Luffy_

The bear stopped by Luffy's body, reaching down to hoist him aloft by his torn-up waistcoat. In those huge hands, Luffy seemed so small, so fragile.

"_Lion's Song._"

Zoro's body was on fire, agony twisting up his muscles with even the smallest movement, but he'd done it; Sandai Kitetsu still sang in his hand from the impact of the cut across the man's shoulder. A moment of surprise was what he'd been waiting for – that single window of opportunity. Zoro had felt an odd resistance as the blade sliced through, as though it had been a glancing blow, but that was impossible. He'd hit the Shichibukai head-on with as much strength as he could muster, and it hadn't been deflected, that much he was sure of.

It had to have done something, it had to. Everyone else had been wiped out by the blast, and lay strewn amongst the wreckage of the courtyard; he was their last hope. He was Luffy's last hope.

The bear stumbled heavily behind him and Zoro turned to peer over his shoulder, flush with a small light of hope. That light shrivelled and died in his chest when he saw what lay under the bear's clothing – all wires and pumps and hard-looking metal, grafted directly into muscle. His attack had done little more than dent part of the apparatus. "Bastard," he hissed, "what are-" The bear turned to face him. "So you're a cyborg, just like Franky...no, you're a lot tougher than regular steel."

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Just what were his fucking options? Had there even been any to begin with? But no time to think, only time to react as a new complication emerged and a harsh, gathering light pulsed out from the mouth of whatever the hell it was Zoro was fighting and he was rolling over in the rubble again.

Useless. So useless. All he was doing was running. Rolling away like a coward, clinging to life as tightly as he could, hoping blindly the circumstances would change in his favour. He'd taken so many hits now that his body was starting to shut down. Soon he wouldn't even be able to run away any more. _There has to be some way, some way out of this _he thought to himself as he struggled to even raise to his knees. _I just haven't seen it yet; think, think,_

He watched as the steel girder that had been in the path of the last beam-attack melted like ice on a hot summer's day.

He forced himself to his knees and turned to face the Shichibiukai, trying not to shake. He just needed time. Time to analyse the situation, time to think his way out of this...

Apparently the bear was willing to give him that time. "Cyborg," it began, "that is indeed what I am, but I'm different to 'Cyborg' Franky. I am what they call a 'Pacifista'. An as-yet-incomplete human weapons project funded by the World Government."

The spinning cogs of Zoro's mind began to grind to a halt. What chance did he, did any of them have against a fucking living weapon. "The way you are...and being an ability user on top of it..." he said, slowly, reluctantly, "it seems that our hope is already lost." He sat cross-legged, shoulders sloping with exhaustion as he heaved breath into his aching lungs. He wanted to stand, wanted to look this bastard in the face and raise his katana again, but it wasn't going to happen. "My body isn't even responding to me now." It was over. He peered up at the towering Shichibukai, blinking through the blood streaming from a cut somewhere above his eyebrow. All the pain resonating throughout his body was beginning to merge into one.

It was over, but perhaps something could still be salvaged from the wreckage of this encounter. "Why is it that you want to take Luffy's head?"

"That is as far as I'm willing to compromise." He was told.

All tactical avenues had been explored, and all had been exhausted. Zoro was outmatched and overpowered. There was only one thing left he could think of. "Fine." He said. "I'll let you have one head." He bent low, as close as he could get to prostrating himself in his current condition. "But in exchange, please take my life for his, I ask this of you! My head may not be worth much at the moment, but this is the head of the man who will eventually become the world's number-one swordsman. Surely that should be enough!"

The bear regarded him coolly. "Despite your great ambition, you wish to take that man's place and approach death?"

It was the only thing he could do. They had to live on. Luffy. Everyone. He'd do whatever it took for them to be safe. He loved them all more than he'd ever realised. "Aside from that, I see no other way to save the crew. If you can't even protect your captain, then your ambition is worthless." Zoro looked the bear straight in the eye. "Luffy is the man who's going to become the Pirate King!"

They stared at one another for a few long moments, Zoro willing him with every ounce of strength remaining in his weary body to accept the proposal. Letting him take Luffy's head was not an option.

It wouldn't be so bad, Zoro supposed. He'd made it this far; half way around the Grand Line. A lucid calm descended on him and the worries clouding his mind dissipated, blown away by the purest freedom that came from facing your own death.

He wouldn't die a legend like he'd wanted, but he'd die a man of honour, and that was enough.

He drew a breath down deep into his chest and held it there, wondering if the next breath, or the breath after it might be his last, awaiting an answer from the giant mechanised weapon that held all their lives in the balance.

"Now just hold on a minute, you damn bastard." Clumsy footsteps through the debris. Voice once spun from honey now thick; croaked and tainted with dust. That voice shot steel knives through Zoro's resolve and it shattered around him, leaving him unable to do anything other than stare wide-eyed at the approaching figure. "How are you supposed to get ahead if you're dead?"

This was a complication unpredicted, unaccounted for. Everyone was supposed to stay where they were, stay good and still and silent while Zoro handed his life over for them. But not the cook. Not the _damn _cook. He could never comply with Zoro's wishes, even while they were still inside his head.

Hands-in-pockets as though he was just taking a stroll. Pride hiding his shaking, but only just. Sauntering casually over to them on a busted leg. Glaring at Zoro as though this was just another of their altercations aboard the ship. "What about your ambition, idiot?"

Zoro bit his lip, watched him walk over, wanting to scream and shout at him for being awake, for listening in on a matter that didn't concern him, for interfering, for not just taking everyone else and running as far away as he could as fast as was possible. But the words wouldn't come. They just wouldn't come. "You..." he managed, as the Shichibukai simply looked on, impassive as ever.

Sanji ignored Zoro, turning to the bear. "Hey, big guy!" He yelled, fronting bravado. Zoro had no idea what the fuck the cook was planning. It was already clear they couldn't beat him even if they worked together. "Oi!" Sanji was standing between them now. "Rather than this moss-headed swordsman, take my life instead!"

His mind was reeling. This was absurd. Sanji hadn't stepped in with a plan, he hadn't interfered with a new hope that they might win somehow, he'd stepped in wanting to take Zoro's place. Wanting to save Zoro from death and sacrifice himself instead. It just didn't make any kind of sense at all.

Zoro just stared at him, wobbling and barely able to stand, acting like he was so full of righteousness and courage. "I know the Marines may not consider me a threat yet, but soon enough, the one from this crew who'll cause the most trouble will be me, Black Leg Sanji!"

"Why, you..!" Zoro croaked. The cook ignored him, fixated on the Shichibukai. Zoro wished he could see Sanji's face. Maybe then he could figure out what the fuck the cook was thinking. But Sanji just stood there with his back to him, a determined and unmoving barrier between Zoro and his ultimate end.

"Come on, do it!" Sanji strained. "Instead of this guy...my life...take it! We're both resigned to the sacrifices we must make! Let the flower of death blossom in me!" The Shichibukai said nothing, did nothing. "Oi," Sanji said, lowering his voice, speaking only to Zoro. "Tell everyone...to take care." The cook lifted his head, but didn't turn around.

Sanji was making his goodbye. He'd intervened, interfered, stripped Zoro of his resolve and was planning to die in his place as if it was nothing. Sanji was the last person Zoro needed to see right now, the last person he wanted to come and try to dissuade him or take on his responsibility. "Sorry, but...it looks like you'll need to find yourselves another cook,"

He thrust the hilt of his katana into Sanji's side.

Felt it hit.

Knew the pain he'd be causing a man who was already on his last legs. Knew it wouldn't be much longer. He'd hoped Sanji would just drop; that would have been better for both of them. But the cook defied him to the last, turning and gripping Zoro's shoulder; those warm hands he remembered so well settling on his body one last time and squeezing him tight.

Sanji reacted as though he'd been betrayed. Zoro kept himself stiff and still. He couldn't afford to break, not now. He said nothing; no goodbyes, no final confessions as he watched Sanji drop, watched him fight it desperately, felt the palm and the fingers that slid down his arm, as gentle and desperate as when they'd once been lovers.

Sanji's weak fingers released him, reaching. Zoro watched him slip under, watched the last strains of consciousness drain away. He wondered what expression he'd be wearing in the cook's last memory of him.

No goodbyes. In the end, what words would ever have been enough.

He took a moment, and composed himself again. He'd made his decision; the cook had done nothing other than get in the way for a short while. It hadn't changed anything.

"This is my final request." He said, tossing his katana away along with his dreams.

The Shichibukai sighed, finally, and agreed to Zoro's terms. "If I were to lay a hand on Strawhat after all this, my honour would be at stake."

"I'm in your debt."

"You can trust me, I will keep my promise. But before I claim your sacrifice, I'll show you _hell_."

Zoro considered himself a lucky man; he could recall three times in his short nineteen years of existence when he'd been truly happy. Some people could live a lifetime and not experience that feeling once.

The warm summer breeze was on his skin again, as though he was back there, playing in the long, sweet grasses of home, laughing with his friends and so sure those days would last forever. Kuina had taught them how to catch butterflies that day. His palms could still remember that delicate fluttering sensation he'd felt for the first time, peering inside his hands to get a good look at it. And then he'd opened them on her instruction, flattened his hands gently so it could be free but the butterfly had stayed right there on his finger, fanning its wings. The evening's dimming light had caught its iridescent markings, making it glow as he simply stared in amazement, not having seen anything quite so beautiful before. Then it had just flown away, up into the cobalt summer sky, gone forever.

The second time was when he first realised he'd fallen for Sanji. He'd been tying his bootlaces and preparing to leave after one of their many hotel room excursions while Sanji had been outside on the balcony having a last cigarette. He'd glanced up, just for a moment, meaning only to check if the cook was done smoking, and found himself captivated by Sanji simply standing there, leaning on both elbows, gazing at the street below. He'd been content just to watch, felt the calm in that moment, and knew then it meant something other than lust had blossomed inside him.

He'd stood from the bed as Sanji came back in, lit like a flame only he could ignite. Stepped towards him, reached for him, kissed him like they'd been parted for months, knowing from the way the cook was kissing him back, the way those hands were fumbling the clothes from his body yet again, that same fire burned in Sanji too.

The third time had been in another bed, another place, far away. They'd had sex and were recovering together in the humid, sticky night, sweat drying on their skin under the warm breeze coming through the open window. His arm had been slung hot under Sanji's neck but the cook hadn't protested it, just kicked the covers off a little and rolled over so his back was to Zoro. Zoro had wanted to press in but resisted the urge, feeling the heat radiating from Sanji's body and knowing the cook wouldn't appreciate being made even warmer.

He'd run the tips of his fingers along Sanji's arm, starting at his shoulder and moving slowly down, stroking small circular patterns against his skin in the darkness. After a while he'd stopped stroking, and Sanji had lifted his head, rocked slightly back against him – his silent protest for Zoro's caress to continue.

Eventually Sanji had slipped under, and Zoro had just lain there beside him, wrapped warm against the man he loved, laying awake as he slept, listening to him breathe.

Three moments where he'd wanted for nothing, and known the stillness of the soul that came from it.

Even standing alone in an empty patch of forest, body broken and facing his own death, Zoro had no complaints. He'd lived well, lived full. He'd drank and laughed and fought and loved, with no room for regret. He wouldn't be able to carry that shared dream to the end like he'd promised, but she'd have to understand this was his decision. Luffy and the rest had to live on. What sort of man would he be if he couldn't sacrifice himself for his crew?

He remembered Sanji, standing between him and the Shichibukai, and felt that scouring inner pain again. Felt the hilt of his katana connecting with the cook's side, felt the turmoil and doubt that desperate last expression had stirred in his soul. As Sanji begged him without words not to go.

Damn cook. _Damn cook_.

He shook the thoughts away and stared up at the bubble of pain the bear had left him with. In the end, Zoro was only a man who could make it this far. He was about to die, but that was alright, he'd made his peace with it. He'd never expected to live a long life. They'd be mad at him, no doubt. And maybe he'd deserve it a little for being such a martyr, but in time they'd understand, and move on. He was sad he'd miss finishing the voyage with them, but he'd pass into memory, and they'd carry him with them to the ends of the earth. He wished he could tell them not to cry, not to mourn his passing. It was thanks to them he'd die a happy man.

He raised his arms and thrust forward, filling his head with thoughts of Sanji. Of stolen kisses and hard, naked heat; of quiet smiles that disguised deeper sentiments, of the warmth and the scent and the feel of him. Of Sanji's tenderness the times they'd made love. It was the closest he'd ever come to knowing what home might feel like.

That butterfly, even if he'd had to let it go, how great it had been to hold it for a short while.


	24. Chapter 22

Nothing happened

_Quiet. Quiet like the grave._

Sanji's exhaled smoke ghosted through the air, chasing swirled eddies of grey through the meagre light of the gas-lantern, then disappearing altogether. He inhaled again, filling his lungs and holding it til he felt the burn, the ache – then he let it free in one smooth breath, watching the smoke climb and twist from his lips up to the darkness of the high ceiling above. He thought about how that breath, that smoke had once been a part of him, nestled at his core and swelling inside him for release. How that part of him had fought free, almost like a birth.

_Life flows like water; you can't stop it, can only try to direct it. Goes where it wants. Stops where it likes. Only a fool would wade knee-deep into it and think he can make a difference._

He looked around, following the haze to the places it had seeped away, thick over his head and to the seemingly ancient stone of the wall where subtle air currents had carried and collected it. It thickened the atmosphere and in the lantern's light, gifted the air with a pleasant glow. His breath. But not his any longer, now that he'd given it back. He thought of it remaining part of him, spreading out slowly until the room was filled, then covering the godforsaken island, the Grand Line and still further, until some element of his existence stretched out to each corner of the world.

Because otherwise, he was just some guy smoking alone quietly in a cold, dark, damp room that smelled of dirt and rum. Because otherwise, it didn't really matter whether he breathed or not. He took a deep breath and held it again, this time without smoke, and thought about what it would be like to never breathe again. He held himself calmly as his body fought against him, lungs craving fresh air, new fuel. Sanji had always liked to think of himself as tough as all fuck, hell he'd taken a strike from God himself and walked away from it, but in reality, he was frail. They all were. All it would take was for him to stop breathing, and he'd die. Simple as that. Death was far easier than he'd ever realised. He gave in, though, and air rushed through his lips again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Stubbed that cigarette out amongst the others, lit another one.

His lips were dry and cracked. He sucked them in and wet them with his tongue, feeling the roughness and the tiny stinging sensations which prickled along them. Sore from him biting them, dry from his relentless silent rehearsal of that old, forgotten sea-shanty. He'd remembered a lot of it now – probably more than half. It kept him company in the dreamy half-light, kept his mind out of difficult places. His lips formed around the words as though they were a secret prayer made in the holiest of temples. Sanji wasn't sure whether it was the comfort or the distraction of it he needed most. He looked down at his hands, palm up, and spread his fingers.

_Cup your hands to catch it - doesn't matter. It'll slip through your fingers anyway._

Until that moment amongst the wreckage of Moria's mansion, he'd felt invincible. Zoro had pledged his life, so Sanji had seen fit to pledge his own instead. It had all been so very simple. He'd die, and Zoro would live. He'd never even contemplated dying without a fight before – for someone like Sanji, it was an impossibility. Once, a long time ago, he'd fought with every fibre of his soul to stay alive. Weak with fear and starvation, feeling his own body rot around him with each passing day, despising himself for being so small and fragile and helpless, he'd never given in. Never stopped hoping, even in the sapping chill of the freezing night, the scouring heat of the baking day, even when he was almost too weak to stand he was sustained by the meagre hope that there would be salvation, that someone would come to rescue him. Powered above all else by the precious dream of All Blue and his need to live in order to realise it.

In an instant, he'd given it up. Given up everything. Lectured Zoro about throwing away his dreams whilst casually tossing his own by the way-side as though it was nothing important. When he thought about it now, it was almost as though someone else had done it instead; someone dumber, braver and with far less to lose. Someone unafraid of admitting certain truths. To that man, faced with no other way out, sacrificing his life for Zoro was the most natural thing in the world. He smirked at the memory of Zoro's face, all stern and resolute one moment then pale with shock the next. His smirk faded. It hadn't just been shock. There'd been panic mixed in there too. Stupid bastard swordsman. Stubbed out; lit up again.

He shivered and hunched his shoulders, rubbing at his arms where gooseflesh had spread. It wasn't even cold in the room, but his hands had been shaking all evening like he was freezing. He took another sweet drag and tried not to dwell on it. He crossed and un-crossed his legs, wincing at the protest in his side as he moved. The pain from where Zoro had knocked the resistance out of him, so to speak. He put a hand to where it hurt, fingers curling into a soft, warm pullover rather than his usual suit. He'd changed the other day, after carrying Zoro back from where he'd found him. A broken man. Sanji could still feel Zoro's sickeningly cold, dead weight on his back.

So much blood. So much blood it had soaked Sanji through his suit to his skin. He'd had to shower before redressing. Watched as Zoro's blood pinked the water pooling between his feet. More disturbing than that had been his want to preserve it, his feeling of wastefulness and disrespect at simply washing it away down the drain. It was important, because it was part of Zoro, and Zoro was important.

He stared at his cigarette, almost three-quarters spent now, rolling it gently between his fingertips. He watched that little bright ring of light as it descended towards the filter, leaving a pillar of spent ash in its wake. It glowed so brightly now, but soon it would reach the end of the tobacco and die out, be gone forever. He blew on it carefully so that the ash wouldn't scatter. The ring glowed brighter, descending more swiftly until it met the filter and snuffed out. He stubbed it distastefully into the little pot he'd commandeered, along with the many others which had collected during his watch shift. He thought about maybe leaving it a while to have his next, then decided that was a shitty idea and lit up a new one.

Fucking stupid shitty bastard swordsman. If he'd wanted to die so badly he should have said, Sanji would have seen to it personally. He swallowed, rubbed his arms again to try and stop the shivering, to no great effect.

He glanced down at Zoro for the first time in a while. Zoro looked like a corpse. Pale from blood-loss, unconscious, bandaged from head to toe and lying deathly still. Sanji kept a careful watch on him until he was sure Zoro was actually breathing. Even out cold, Zoro looked troubled - brows slightly furrowed and corners of his mouth tweaked down. Sanji wanted to slap the expression off his damn face. He took an exasperated drag and looked away, glaring off into the nearest corner. He wanted Zoro to be awake so he could knock him unconscious again.

Sanji felt sick to his stomach every time he so much as took a look at the fallen swordsman. How dare he think he was the only one who could take Luffy's place. How dare he decide to die for them when they had no say in the matter.

_Die heroically on your own time, when no one gives a shit about you any more. Until then, think about the people you're leaving behind._

His side hummed in protest again as he shifted position. It was like a touch Zoro had left on his skin; an imprint. He put a palm over it. Perhaps to nurse it. Perhaps simply to feel a connection to it. Whatever his pain was, it wasn't anywhere near what Zoro might be feeling, even unconscious. Those two pirates had told Sanji how Zoro had taken all of Luffy's damage and exhaustion, screaming in agony at even the smallest exposure.

No, what Sanji was feeling wasn't really pain, but something else. Something deeper than skin and flesh and bones. He ached, in a place he couldn't define. Ached so hard he could barely breathe. Every time he looked at Zoro, a broken spectre of the man he'd known, that ache squeezed tight. So he didn't look. If he didn't look, he was just a man, sitting alone in a room, smoking to pass the time, trying not to dwell on how fragile his world seemed all of a sudden.

He wondered if perhaps he should eat something. He couldn't remember the last time he ate, but his stomach was knotted enough from the lack of it for it to have been at least a day or so since his last meal. Robin had left him some things in case he got hungry, smiling that beautiful smile in that way she had that told you she could see right through you.

He picked up a piece of fruit from the small tray. An apple. He brushed a thumb over it slowly and inspected it, but didn't take a bite. Small and red and sweet-looking. Apples were ultimately to blame for the deeper ache he was feeling, he supposed. Perhaps that was unkind. Maybe apples had just been a convenient excuse, back then. Maybe things would have happened between him and Zoro regardless.

He closed his eyes and pressed the fruit to his lips. He hadn't known what to think when Zoro had first kissed him. Hadn't the faintest clue what he was doing, only certain that it felt good and he wanted more. He'd allowed himself to swim free in the pleasure of it, in the excitement it brought him, a feeling like nothing he'd ever known before. He'd never imagined in his wildest dreams that sex could be quite so good as it had been with Zoro, he had no problem admitting that. So much heat and desire between them it was almost blinding, and he'd become lost. It was like a sort of hypersensitivity – a simple flash of Zoro's bronze, naked skin during the day had been enough to light Sanji up. Zoro's gentle caress, the full press of Zoro's soft lips had driven him out of his mind when they'd been wrapped together under cover of night.

Soon the pleasure brought with it a kind of breathless elevation, like being full of nothing and empty of everything, weightless, drifting like a brightly-coloured balloon against the clear summer sky. He'd started to notice things he never would have thought of before. How Zoro smelled good. How he walked with a firm confidence - echoed in the swifter, harder, more deliberate movements that came when they were alone together. That he liked how Zoro looked when he smiled. Being close to Zoro had started to make Sanji feel good, for no explicable reason. Warm, almost. When they were close and fucking, he could explain it away as the rush that came from good sex, but there had been plenty of times where there was no easy excuse. Plenty of times Zoro had made him feel warm and light simply by stroking his skin, brushing his hair away, keeping his gaze longer than was necessary.

He'd been overwhelmed by it all. Blinded by it. From that first encounter, their relationship had changed so much and so quickly that Sanji had lost all sense of what was going on, all sense of himself. He wasn't ready for any of it, and when he'd finally seen sense it was like waking up in a pool of quicksand. Couldn't lose control. Couldn't give in. It wasn't who he was. He wasn't a guy who slept with guys. He wasn't a man who would eagerly follow another to a hotel room, or ask him for sex when he needed it, or let him deep inside. Not the type to want to make another man yell out his name, or want to sweat up against him, or want to push into him, or kiss him and touch him and hold him so close they were practically one. Not the type to feel elated when another man confessed his love.

So he'd pushed Zoro away, and preserved the idea he had of himself. This way, he could forever be the Straight guy who loved women more than anything, worshipped them, would do anything for them. Nothing would change, he didn't need to re-evaluate himself. The thing with Zoro had only been a good-natured fuck between two young, sexually frustrated guys. They were both attractive enough for it to work, and that was all there was to it. He'd done his best to strangle every last thread of confused feeling he had for Zoro, tried to stamp it out and shove it deep deep down where he'd never have to think about it again.

Turned out that had been the worst mistake of his life. He'd been happy. Actually truly, properly happy, and it had scared the shit out of him simply because of who it was that was making him feel that way. It didn't sit with his identity, so he'd abandoned it. Thrown it away because it couldn't possibly be right.

He was such a fucking idiot.

He'd gone on with his life, acting like it didn't matter, that the thing with Zoro hadn't made one bit of difference, hadn't meant anything to him, but in reality it had. He'd known it all along, just been too cowardly to admit it. Too stupid and too belligerent and too damn afraid of what it might mean.

He couldn't remember now why it had even mattered. Was he afraid of other people's judgement? Afraid of how he'd judge himself? Afraid of what the crew might think of him if they'd found out? These were all such small, shallow details that had seemed so huge and important at the time but now were like insignificant pebbles in the palm of his hand – easily discarded.

Thriller Bark had changed everything.

But then death had a habit of putting things into perspective. Sanji thought back to that other island; back to the cold and the gnawing emptiness, and realised there was something else he should have taken from it. Life was too short and empty and brutal to worry about this kind of bullshit. He should have just shrugged it off and admitted he liked being with Zoro and so-the-fuck-what. Liked his company and warmth and his unexpected tenderness.

But he'd realised it too late. That ship had sailed. Zoro had moved on. The time they'd had that awful hollow sex on the beach of Water 7 certainly showed that.

He felt bitter. He hated the man he'd been when he'd ended it with Zoro, all those months ago. That man was a fuckwit. He had no idea what Sanji was feeling now. No idea what it was like to wake up thinking someone you hadn't realised was so important to you was dead, having a knot in your gut from it so bad it made you retch into the bushes. That man had no idea of the elated relief at finding that person still alive; or the bottomless hollow at finding him so utterly broken he was almost beyond recognition.

He had no idea what it was like to sit beside that person for hours on end, wanting to hold them, to pull them close and whisper comforts and not being able to do a damn thing because you had no fucking right after how you'd treated him. But there was no going back now. What was done was done and he had to live with it.

That man he'd been, that ignorant, proud, naive fool could never understand what it was like to sit idly by as the man who'd once been your lover lay beside you fighting for his life, wanting even just to touch his hand, just to feel his warmth but not being able to.

It flooded through him in waves every time he so much as looked at Zoro. Drove his heart up into his throat. Suffocated him slowly in the quiet dark of the empty room. But Sanji held himself firm and held himself back; same stubborn bastard he'd always been. He had no right to take what he needed from an unconscious man. No right to pretend just for a moment that the love Zoro had once shown him was still there. That was something which could only ever be given.

He opened his eyes again and placed the apple gently back on the tray.

Damn it if he didn't need another smoke. Almost out. Have to make them last, now. Needed them to occupy his trembling hands.

He swallowed hard over the lump in his throat, lighting up another cigarette and thinking about how flat and empty everything seemed. There were a million men just like him around the world, doing the same thing he was at that moment. In the end he was not that much different, nothing that special. He was just a man, sitting in a dark room somewhere, mourning a love lost by his own foolishness and smoking to pass the time.

On the third day after the incident, Zoro regained consciousness. Sanji had been milling around in the background, tinkering with useless things, keeping his mind occupied. The commotion had drawn a number of people over, but he could still make out a flash of green hair through the mob as Zoro raised himself to a sitting position despite Chopper's protests.

He didn't join them. Didn't even try to make eye-contact with the swordsman. He put down what he was doing, made his way back to the ship, collapsed into the nearest hammock and slept for the first time in days.


	25. Chapter 23

23. The Last Argument

Blue.

Blue as far as the eye could see. The sea's azure turned cobalt where the distant sky met the water, wind-scattered cloud laced across both. Sanji couldn't imagine ever wanting any other view as long as he lived. That thin line between earth and heaven promised adventure and things beyond his wildest dreams, and made him burn with impatience even as he gazed at it.

Sea-faring was in his blood, he was sure of it. His legs had never really trusted the land – the un-movingness and solidity of it unnerved him on some level. Being separated from that reassuring pulse of rising and falling waves felt unnatural. It was as though he belonged to the sea, was part of it. It had always been there; the one constant in his life. Harsh sometimes, gentle others. Closer to him than the mother he'd never known.

Heavy steps rang up into the crow's nest as someone climbed the ladder below it. Sanji didn't really want company. He was happy alone with his thoughts, smoking and staring out of the window, keeping watch over the wide expanse of ocean. Evening was gathering now.

Whoever it was had reached the top. Sanji glanced around to see, then turned back, feigning disinterest. His heartbeat quickened all the same. "What do you want? My shift doesn't end for another hour." He shrugged his shoulders to settle his suit jacket into a better position across his back.

Zoro was quiet for a moment. "We going to talk about it?"

"What?" Sanji asked, pretending he didn't know what needed to be talked about.

"Whatever the hell it is that's on your mind," Zoro replied, gruffly.

"What makes you think it has anything to do with you?"

"Doesn't it?"

Sanji said nothing. His cigarette had burned down to the filter again. He stubbed it out, grinding it carefully into the ashtray on the windowsill so that all the life was gone from it.

"If you have something to say, then say it," Zoro said, impatiently.

"I have nothing to say to you," Sanji muttered. His heart was pounding. "Just go away and wait somewhere else, I'll come get you when it's time."

"We've barely spoken since we left Thriller Bark. Most days it seems like you can't even look me in the eye." Zoro wore a different voice today than other days. A different voice than he spoke to the others in. A voice Sanji hadn't heard in a long time.

He watched a couple of gulls wheeling above the water in the distance, where there was likely a shoal of fish. "Just your imagination," he replied.

"Is it?"

"Yeah," Sanji grunted, irritated. He wasn't in the mood for Zoro's stubbornness.

"Then turn around and face me, asshole."

He gave an exasperated sigh and span around, glaring at Zoro like he'd just asked the most unreasonable thing in all the world. They glared at one another. Zoro's gaze was accusational, and Sanji couldn't hold it for long. He rolled his eyes. "What?!"

"Just fucking spit it out already."

"What's done is done. No point talking about it."

Zoro was watching him carefully. "I did what I had to do. No more, no less."

"Fucking bullshit."

"Oh? Well what about you, you goddamn hypocrite," Zoro spat, the restraint on his irritation finally breaking.

"The fuck?"

"Don't say shit about what I did when you were about to do the damn same!"

Zoro was right. Sanji knew it, but that didn't make it any easier to admit. This was a circular argument and both of them had had the same intentions, but it didn't change the fact he was still angry. Nor did it stop him from continuing the argument regardless. "And who the fuck do you think you are to stop me? Huh? What fucking right do you have to decide what I do with my own fucking life?"

"You want to talk about fucking rights?"

"Yeah shit-head, so what if I-"

"Then what right did you have to waltz into something that had nothing to do with you?" Zoro was shouting now. Face twisted. Hands shaking with pent-up rage. Sanji had thought he was the only one who was angry. Had thought himself the only one with any right to be.

"What the hell?" he shot back. Shouting for the sake of shouting. They both were.

"That was my decision. _My _life." Calm again. Reined in. "You have some nerve just stepping in like that. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"You expect me to just stand there and watch you fucking _die_?" Sanji's voice had cracked a little more than he'd meant it to. Emotions were getting the best of him. He pressed his lips together and swallowed.

A moment of silence descended between them. The Sunny creaked gently around them as though trying to change the subject.

"You don't interfere in someone else's fight," Zoro told him. "That was the understanding we've always had in this crew."

Zoro was being reasonable, and that made Sanji all the more angry. He didn't want reasonable. Reasonable was no good to anyone. "Well excuse me for trying to save your sorry ass."

"Then what do you think it was like for me? You expect me to just sit there calmly as you hand your life over in my place?" The poke of the iron into the fire. The stirring of embers. Hot rage filtered through again as Sanji watched it flicker across Zoro's face. "Do you have any idea what that felt like, you _selfish fuck?!_"

Sanji reacted as though he'd been struck across the face. "Selfish? I try to give my life up in place of yours and you call me _selfish?_"

"Who asked you to? That's not your place! The crew can't survive without the cook! The crew can't survive without the captain! Or the navigator, the doctor, the engineer...few crew members are expendable, but let's face it, some of us are, and I'm one of them."

Sanji stared at him. "Don't fucking talk like that-"

"The first mate is the one who takes a hit for captain and crew when shit gets rough. I've always known it. Luffy knows it. That's just the way things are."

"Fucking martyr," Sanji spat. "You think you're the only one suffering? What about the rest of us, watching over you and worried fucking sick that you wouldn't make it? We're the ones who have to deal with the aftermath of your dumb shit!" Sanji hadn't realised how much he'd been holding back. It surged inside him like waters churning before an open sluice gate. "What about me? I woke up thinking you were fucking dead! Fuck, you should be dead! Stupid selfish asshole! Because of you...what kind of time is that to realise that I-" He stopped. Bit his lip. He'd stumbled somewhere he wasn't meaning to go. "That I..."

Left himself vulnerable. Open. He rubbed at the back of his neck and looked away. Close the door and never look back. But it was too late. Zoro had seen the crack of light already, expression changing, softening. Sanji wanted to back away, to jump down the ladder and escape everything.

"That you 'what'?" Zoro asked.

Things were easier when they were angry with one-another. Things were easier when they didn't talk; when Sanji didn't have to think about how things used to be between them. He turned back to the window, and his view of the sea. "Nothing. Just forget it. Just fuck off and forget it," he muttered.

Zoro just stood there for a moment; silence returned to the crow's nest. Then Sanji heard the boards creaking as Zoro moved towards him, heart pounding in his chest so hard he was afraid Zoro might hear. Came to a stop just behind him, not saying a word. Sanji felt his back burning under Zoro's gaze. He wanted to fidget but held himself still. He hoped Zoro would just give up and go away.

When a hand rested on his shoulder he jolted at the touch, thinking Zoro was about to spin him around and smack him square in the face. But it wasn't that kind of touch. It was soft but firm. Gentle. Reassuring. The warmth of it reached Sanji's skin, and already he felt fit to break.

Zoro turned him slowly, and he allowed it. Their eyes met. It was a long time since they'd stood so close. Sanji felt hot with embarrassment, and forced a scowl in an attempt to disguise it.

His eyes went wide as Zoro embraced him. Held him tight. Suddenly he was overwhelmed by it, surrounded by that familiar warmth and strength he'd needed so badly. He lay his forehead on Zoro's shoulder and clenched his fists against Zoro's chest in protest. He wasn't sure how long he could hold himself back.

"Don't," he whispered, word so small the plea barely left his mouth at all.

But Zoro didn't relent. He held Sanji close and tight as though he never intended to let go. Sanji didn't want him to ever let go. He allowed himself the briefest moment to remember how it had felt to be in Zoro's arms. It only brought painful things to the surface; how he'd been the one who wanted there to be distance between them in the first place. Thoughts of Zoro lying dead in the ruins of that great mansion and being powerless to do anything.

"You were just going to walk away," he said, through gritted teeth. "Not a word to any of us. You were just going to walk away and die, you piece of shit." He swallowed thickly. All of his vitriol seemed to drain away into Zoro's gentle warmth. "I thought you were dead," he whispered into Zoro's shoulder.

"But I wasn't." Zoro pulled away slightly, and taking Sanji's hand, uncurled it and pushed it against his chest. There was a rhythm beneath. "I'm right here, Sanji."

Sanji gazed at his own hand clasped in Zoro's; pressed against Zoro's rising chest.

Zoro couldn't make a promise to always be there. The nature of their occupation and its various hazards made promises very difficult things to keep. All they had was the now. One day, possibly some day soon, Zoro would be gone. Sanji, too. Life was such a small and fragile thing. So short. Any opportunity to make it seem less so, or allow escape from the brutal reality of it for a short while, should be embraced with both arms. He'd had it, and let it slip away.

He sighed, still transfixed as Zoro pulled away slightly. His palm went tenderly to Sanji's cheek, fingertips settling over Sanji's temple. Sanji closed his eyes and melted into it. "I had to do something," Sanji whispered. "I couldn't just let you go."

"That's exactly what you should have done. You made what I had to do a thousand times harder."

His hands smoothed the fabric of Zoro's shirt out over his broad chest. When he glanced up, they came nose to nose. Sanji felt a stir of excitement grow in his belly as Zoro brushed his nose against his, and brought their foreheads together, eyes closed. "Idiot," Sanji muttered, not sure what was happening. In that embrace, it was as though they were dancing, the slow sway of the Sunny beneath their feet moving them in time with the ocean's unheard music.

Sanji wanted to kiss him. He leaned in a little, unsure if Zoro would reciprocate, or if he was mis-reading the mood entirely out of hope and relief. Zoro didn't back away, but didn't move to meet him either. Panic knotted inside him; that loose, unsettling panic that comes from taking tremendous risk. He wondered if this was what it had been like for Zoro in the galley the first time, after their needless fight over the apple, when he'd been pressed up against the wall and willing Zoro to make the first move. He'd been hard in an instant with Zoro between his legs. Harder still when Zoro's lips had settled against his. He'd come so quickly and so good it had shamed him and made him want Zoro to leave to save embarrassment. He hadn't realised how terrifying it was to make the first move and risk a far worse embarrassment than he could ever have imagined at the time. There would be no coming back from such an encounter. No explaining it away.

The final strains of that sea-shanty came to him again.

_Live like there's no tomorrow_

He tipped himself forward and landed awkwardly against Zoro's lips; Zoro's soft, full lips. He blushed fiercely at his unrefined move, then realised with horror that Zoro wasn't kissing him back. He was just standing there as Sanji exposed himself in the worst possible way. He'd made an awful, awful mistake. He pulled back and was about to make a stab at a mortified apology and it just being nothing but relief, when Zoro grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him hard.

It was like he'd been holding his breath. Like he'd been starving without realising it.

They kissed desperately. There was no time for words. No words that would have been sufficient. The kiss was all the things they needed to say to one another. All the hurt and regret. The tension that had built between them broke like waves breaking over the bough of a ship; all noise and reckless energy. Hands sought warm, covered skin, seeking to renew old, silent vows made what seemed like an eternity ago. Zoro's eager touch was still familiar, as though those lonely months had melted away. Sanji wished he could melt them away.

Zoro pulled away and glared at him angrily, hands either side of his face so he couldn't look away. "Do you honestly think I could have said good-bye? To _you_?" He looked Sanji over as though re-living something troubling. "You're such a fucking idiot." Sanji was kissed again. Zoro's hands seemed torn between the want to hold Sanji and the want to hit him, bunching and smoothing his clothes. "I'm so angry with you I don't even know where to begin."

"I-I wish I'd never...I'm sorry that I..." he said into Zoro's kiss.

"After."

Zoro's kiss was like he remembered; honest and passionate. He'd tortured himself with it endlessly, that it was all just wishful thinking, just a dream and Water 7 had been the cold vein of reality. But Water 7 was the lie. It had been real; all that need, all that fire between them.

He pulled on Zoro's hair, pulled him in, desperate to recapture what was lost. He needed for them to be naked together again, for Zoro to be inside him, to sweat against Zoro, to move and push against him and lose himself in it all over again. Zoro pushed the jacket from Sanji's shoulders, the same way he used to when they were in the hotels. It fell to the floor forgotten, like so many times before. Sanji hadn't realised how much he'd missed being undressed.

They dropped to the floor along with it, unable to make it even to the sofa around the rim of the room. Zoro's hands ran up his sides and he winced unintentionally at the pain that was still bunched there. Zoro leaned away, watching him. He lifted up Sanji's shirt, studying the deep, angry bruise he'd left over Sanji's ribs. His expression was stern. Sanji protested, told him it didn't matter. Zoro didn't listen. Had no intention of listening. He stroked over the bruise, so so gently over it. He kissed his apology onto Sanji's skin with a tenderness Sanji had almost forgotten. His body sang under the contact.

Zoro's fingertips brushed up to Sanji's chest. "You're skinny. Have you been eating right?"

Sanji wanted him, needed him more than ever. He grabbed Zoro by his shirt and hoisted him up and over, spreading his thighs around him. Sanji held him down as they kissed hard, hands roving all over him, hips raising against him as Zoro grunted and ground down, both of them hard as fuck and Sanji fit to burst already. Hands in Zoro's hair, along the line of his neck and jaw and shoulders, making he was real. Skin to skin, warmth to warmth. So much need it was a miracle they'd survived without each other for so long.

"Have you...with anyone else..." Sanji asked.

"No. No one. I could never think of anyone but you,"

Sanji reached down to undo his trousers and pushed them off hurriedly. He couldn't do it fast enough. He released Zoro from his, gasping at the sudden heavy heat of Zoro's cock settling against his belly. He raised his hips and repositioned himself so Zoro pressed against him, wrapping his strong legs around Zoro to bring him in.

"Wait-" Zoro told him.

"Can't wait. I need...I need you..."

Zoro spat into his palm in a meagre attempt to lube himself up. He positioned himself and began to move in. Zoro was huge, and it hurt, but Sanji didn't care, gasping, grasping at Zoro's shirt and hair as he pushed inside. Zoro's hands were gentle in Sanji's hair and under his neck. All the way in. Pressed groin to groin. Zoro stopped, shaking a little. They held one another. Zoro's full weight was between Sanji's thighs once more.

"There's oil under one of the seats, if you'll let me," Zoro whispered, and kissed him.

Sanji released him reluctantly and he withdrew with the greatest of efforts. He watched Zoro shuffle across the floor, lift the seat and lube up. He was too impatient to wait for Zoro's return. He stood, and walked over to where Zoro was sitting on the floor, kicking off his shoes as he went, watching Zoro stroke lube onto himself. Zoro looked up as Sanji straddled him against the seat and the floor, both of them blushing hard as Sanji took Zoro's cock in hand and began to work down over it.

Zoro felt so good, so thick and frictionless inside him that he moaned out. Zoro's thumb settled over his lips as a reminder he needed to keep it down. He angled his hips to rub himself against Zoro as he eased down, and Zoro hissed in a breath at the change. The swordsman's hands were cool against Sanji's hips where the lube touched his skin. Those hands gripped firmly with a polite impatience Sanji was keen to satisfy. His lips found Zoro's as he took in the last of Zoro's shaft, panting in the warm air.

Zoro was inside him again, gliding smoothly in and out of him as his hips rose and fell, and he could hardly bear how good it felt. It was as though he'd been asleep for months, detached from the world, numb to all sensation and was now being wrenched back to a reality he'd foolishly tried to escape from. Zoro's hands brushed away the dust from Sanji's pale body, bringing him back to life again with ravenous kisses that roved up his chest and neck and slipped along his jaw to his open, waiting lips. That same intuition was still there between them. That same bond that had made the sex and everything else that came along with it so incredibly good. Sanji felt alive again.

He opened his eyes, and caught Zoro watching him. Before, Zoro would have looked away, tried to disguise it, but not now. Things were different now.

"Stop looking at me like that," Sanji told him, blushing.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm something special. You always did that. Pissed me off."

"You can't change what I see."

"Whatever, shit-head."

Zoro shot him an impatient expression and began to thrust up from beneath him. "Stop trying to start a fight when I've got my dick inside you."

That was the hair's weight that tipped the balance. Sanji came hard, head thrown back as he shot all over Zoro's chest, dimly aware through the intense pleasure that Zoro was holding him, kissing his neck. He heard those three sacred words again, spoken against his skin. Words he thought he'd never hear repeated. In all honesty, words he didn't deserve to hear repeated.

All that time, and Zoro had still felt that way. Sanji could only hope Zoro would forgive him eventually.

He fell forward against Zoro, sweating and exhausted. Zoro's hands brushed his hair back from his face and he regarded Sanji fully, in both eyes. That was something only Zoro had ever done. Sanji became aware he was smiling, for the first time in a long time. They held one another, and Sanji lamented all those wasted lonely nights. It wasn't even the sex, just the closeness. The stillness. Zoro's hands traced the lines of Sanji's back as he inhaled at the crook of Sanji's shoulder. Sanji breathed in the scent of Zoro's hair, his thumb stroking the short hairs at the back of Zoro's neck.

"What does it feel like?"

Zoro frowned and shifted a little to press inside Sanji. "This?" he said.

Sanji shuddered a little at the movement of Zoro's still-hard cock against where he was now sensitive. "No...what you said...when you said..." he muttered, running fingers through Zoro's hair and avoiding eye contact.

Zoro's hands wandered up over Sanji's bare chest, tender up his neck and to his jaw, brushing at the hint of beard there. Holding him, feeling him as though to make sure he was really there. Sanji wondered how many times they'd thought about each other, dreamt about each other while they'd been apart. His hands went to Zoro's, settling over them where they lay on his body.

Zoro was gazing up at him. "Burning," he said. "It's like burning everywhere, and not wanting to ever be put out." His thumb pressed along the line of Sanji's cheek. "It's so bright you can't look away; you don't want to. You thirst for it in a way you don't understand, as though without contact you might disappear altogether." Zoro thought for a moment. "You resonate. That's what it feels like. Like your soul is resonating with someone else's, and without them you can't feel whole any more."

Sanji leant in, and kissed Zoro gently. He started to move, grinding slowly, pressing his hot body to Zoro's so that there wasn't a hair between them. He let it all wash over him again; the warmth and the pleasure, the deeper satisfaction that sealed the internal ache he'd been nursing. Only Zoro could fill that chasm in his soul. His slow movements brought Zoro to orgasm as they held each other close – controlled and gentle, no explosive pyrotechnics but rather a flood of release, of fulfilled longing and renewed ties as Zoro whispered Sanji's name like it was the one promise he intended to keep.

That smile. That same smile. Wilful and challenging, brightened by the light of a happiness he couldn't quite disguise. Zoro had missed that smile.

Was this the third or the fourth time now? He couldn't quite remember. Sanji was telling him that he lacked stamina, only being able to make it this far before asking that they switch. Implying that Zoro wanted to get fucked on his back in order to take a breather. Zoro pointed out that Sanji was only trying to cover up the fact that he preferred to take it.

Sanji made him pay for it, of course; pinning him on his belly, teasing him with fingers and tongue until he was begging for Sanji to enter him. He didn't care that he was asking for it, though he tried his best to disguise that from Sanji. He was still pissed at the cook for more reasons than he cared to count and the cook was probably still pissed at him, but now wasn't about that. Now was about making up for lost time, and Sanji owed him big.

It had been a fight from the very beginning – a bitter war for all sorts of personal pride, and in the end they'd both lost. Just two stupid, stubborn men finding complication in a simple process. It couldn't have been any other way between them.

That smile again, as it settled against Zoro's lips.

They lay side by side on the floor of the crow's nest, panting into the dark. Zoro's fingers weaved themselves between Sanji's, and he clasped them tight, gazing up at the moon and the stars through the window as they recovered. He put a hand to his own chest, still slick with sweat.

They were just two people. Two specks of dust caught in the wind. What should it matter to anyone if those two specks of dust clung together for a while?

Zoro leaned over and grabbed a blanket from the sofa, unfurling it over them both then settling underneath it beside him.

"I love you."

Sanji stared up at the moon a moment longer, then turned to Zoro. Zoro's expression was inscrutable, caught somewhere between surprise and confusion. Then he smiled and rested his head back against the boards. "I know," he said. "You must be pretty dumb if it took you til just now to figure it out."

"Bastard," Sanji blushed, laughing and giving Zoro a playful backhand. His reactions were slow and his wrist was caught, Zoro pulling him in and kissing him gently. He liked the way Zoro held him. Liked the contours of Zoro's body under his fingertips. Liked the warmth of him and the tenderness of his caress.

He lay his head against Zoro's chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. He decided the ocean was no longer the only pulse he couldn't bear to to be separated from.

Sweet warmth washed across his skin, the morning sun filling the air with a calm brightness Sanji could sense even from behind the pink screen of his closed eyelids. He breathed deep, then realised he wasn't where he expected to be. The creeping sadness that had stuck to him like vines was gone, withered and decayed away; he felt light again, free, and he remembered why. He clenched his fingers and felt Zoro's hand there, in his, resting between them. He was tucked in tight, Zoro's arm wrapped around him as though they hadn't spent a single night apart.

Zoro brushed his hair out of his eyes as he opened them, and greeted him with a smile.

"Morning," Zoro told him, and kissed him.

Later, Sanji found himself wondering how it was that no one had disturbed them that night.

~Fin~


End file.
